


I'm Mr. Loverman

by crazychloe08



Series: delving into characters and relationships through song lyrics! [1]
Category: 17th Century CE RPF, 18th Century CE RPF, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: 17th century homophobia, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens Angst, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens-centric, Angst and Smut, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, Depressed John Laurens, F/M, Gay John Laurens, Henry Laurens' A+ Parenting, Historical Inaccuracy, Historical Lams, Homophobic Henry Laurens, I'm Bad At Tagging, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, John Laurens Angst, John Laurens and Alexander Hamilton light fluff, Lams - Freeform, M/M, No seriously I'm terrible at tagging, Period-Typical Homophobia, So much angst, The Author Regrets Everything, please comment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:15:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 23,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28132260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crazychloe08/pseuds/crazychloe08
Summary: Inspired by Ricky Mongomery's "Mr. Loverman" I delve into a character study of John Laurens and Alexander Hamilton's relationship but in short spurts of one shots, it's not gonna go in any specific order, just with some prompts (the song lyrics) and I do admit I will be writing things I crave to read so have fun!
Relationships: Aaron Burr/Alexander Hamilton, Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Alexander Hamilton/George Washington, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens, Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens/Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette
Series: delving into characters and relationships through song lyrics! [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2060940
Comments: 4
Kudos: 34





	1. I’m headed straight for the floor. The alcohol served it’s tour. And it’s headed straight for my skin, leaving me daft and dim.

**Author's Note:**

> first chapter here we go! Idk if anyone is gonna like this but I am obsessed with Ricky Montgomery and I just thought this song embodies Lams. Maybe I'll make this a series of "I take sad songs and turn them into Historical Lams angst because it's about time I get back to writing!" Anyway, a few notes are that A.Ham got married in 1780, and Laurens left in 1779 but I'm twisting it around a little bit maybe it's like an engagement ring? Idk. ANyway, sorry for the smut, I got carried away but be assured that there is going to be only *minor* smut in this, or like implied smut. Lmk if this is a terrible idea and if I should just stick to reading. ALsO! Check out my bookmarks if you want to read *real* Lams. Keep in mind this is just a writing exercise for the real stuff (oOoOO what does she have planned?).

**_I'm headed straight for the floor. The alcohol served its tour, and it's headed straight for my skin, leaving me daft and dim._ **

1781

The wintry night bit Laurens’ skin as he stumbled out into the frigid air from the shouts and buzz of the tavern. He heaved himself upright fixing his coat, his cheeks warm and flushed from the drinking. 

_ “Raise a glass to freedom!” Laurens toasted with gusto standing on a chair as his fellow aides cheered _

_ “Something you will never see again,” Meade remarked, slinging an arm around the auburn with a grin split across his face. _

_ “No matter what she tells you” Lafayette sniggered, his wig loose and cravat unusually out of query. _

_ “Having another round tonight?” A smooth voice with amusement sat down as Laurens downed his drink.  _

_ “Well, If it isn’t Aaron Burr, Sir, I didn’t think that you could make it” Alexander quipped in his usual tone of endearing annoyance.  _

_ “Spit a verse Burr!” someone yelled, maybe Meade. _

_ “I see the whole gang's here” he surveyed the totally wasted group warily. Like he was above these things. Laurens almost snorted into his glass. _

_ “You are the worse, Sir” Lafayette wagged his finger at Burr which sent the group into drunken laughter. _

_ “Well, the General sent me to make sure you weren’t dead in a ditch after a drunken duel” Burr pointedly looked at Laurens. “He told me to send you back to encampment and to send Alexander his congratulations” Alexander beamed as Burr ushered the intoxicated Aides toward the door.  _

They were a rowdy bunch, singing drinking songs out of tune as they practically skipped back to encampment with Burr nursing a forming headache. 

Laurens must have been drunker then he thought, for he stumbled into the familiar side of Alexander.

Laurens knew he was drunk, but his intoxicated mind paid no heed to his screaming conscience as he nestled himself into Alexander, leaning on his body weight. 

Each Aide filed off into their living quarters--The Potts house, but Alexander pulled Laurens away and started toward their office. 

“Sir, where are you taking me?” Laurens slurred as Alexander pulled him into the office, dark and deserted 

A candle was lit and burned dimly, illuminating the familiar area of abandoned desks. Alexander stepped toward Laurens, his eyes dark. 

“Alexander” he joked as Alexander stepped closer to Laurens. “Your insanity is beginning to surface” 

It had been weeks since they were alone together. The exact amount of time since Alexander had met Miss. Elizabeth Schuyler.

Alexander finally stepped toward him, so close so their noses almost brushed and their breaths mingled. 

“I don’t know if I will ever be able to do this again” he murmured a hand slowly brushing the side of Laurens’ cheek, making him shiver. If he were completely sober, he would have stepped away, but his drunken mind forgot the tension between them, the stormy fights they had yelling at each other, tears streaming down their cheeks.

His mind was spinning, only thinking of this moment, now. 

“My Jack” Alexander softly said with the utmost care and affection. 

Laurens was already reeling from the drinking and mind abuzz until Alexander said these words. The swirling hurricane in his mind stopped around the eye--his Hamilton. 

Laurens should have seen it coming as Alexander kissed him. It wasn’t soft or sweet, like the usual adoring kisses they share in the darkness but full of chaos, urgency and..and..and..lust. Laurens frantically grappled at Alexander’s coat and cravat, hungrily giving in and letting himself let go for the first time in weeks. 

His mind became foggy again as the heat and lust clouded his mind. The only thing that mattered was here now--he was with his Alexander. Alexander shoved him up against a wall and they broke apart, hair askew, outfit loose and barely on, cheating heaving and foreheads touching.

“Mine” Laurens softly whispers and he watches gleefully as Alexander’s eyes dilate as he dives onto Laurens’ mouth. They kissed sloppily, like youths, but like the world was ending and the only people left in the world were each other. Alexander shoved a knee in between Laurens’ breeches and Laurens  _ moaned  _ as  H]he threw his head back as and ground down wantonly trying to create some friction. 

Alexander brushed a hand over his cheek, a soft caress that John leaned into, never wanting to leave its warmth.

“I love you” Alexander whispered against the kiss.

Laurens smiled and leaned down, pressing a kiss to Alexander’s hand, his lips brushing a cool metal band that cooled his swollen lips. 

“I love you too-” Laurens stopped. A cool metal band. A cool metal marriage ring. His mind instantly cleared. Any warmth dissipated from his body. He stilled and then jumped to his shock and realization coursing through his body. 

“ _ Christ! _ ” Laurens’ eyes went wide and he rubbed a hand down his face to make sure it was real. 

“Alexander” Laurens hissed furiously, “Your wife. You mannerless _ bastard _ ” Panic surrounded him like an old blanket. Alexander grabbed him by the face again, but Laurens pulled away.

“You’re married. You knew I would get drop-dead drunk and-” 

“I love  _ you!  _ And Eliza! I could not fathom not having both of you!  _ But I will never stop loving you Jack _ ”

“Don’t say that” he whispered, his voice hoarse. 

“I will convince her. I will make her understand. You can come home with me after the war and we can stay together” Alexander begged, his eyes pleading.

Laurens wanted to believe him. He wanted to feel like he could go home after the war. He knew he wouldn’t. Couldn’t. 

Any hope of a future with Alexander dissipated when Laurens came back from France to find his Alexander lovestruck over another. 

It was unbearable. Unbearable to know that  _ Alexander loved this woman  _ and could also love him. 

He felt trapped. Like he couldn’t escape the taunting voice in his head. 

Laurens took a deep breath, feeling any evidence of the alcohol fade away. He needed to tell Alexander this  _ now _ . Before it could get any worse.

Before Laurens could ruin Alexander. 

“I am going back home. South Carolina is being overrun by the British and I need to be there.” He said cooly, pushing back any lingering emotion while he still was vulnerable. Alexander’s face contorted and then

“You’re leaving me?” the man with many words was stunned. Laurens watched as the light left his eyes, and Laurens could practically hear his own heart start to fracture. 

“Congress has approved my plan for the battalion” Alexander almost stumbled backward. They were silent for a minute and Laurens could practically hear Alexander’s brain whirring, trying to think of something to say.

“Honestly Jack, do you even love me?” That sent pangs down Laurens’ heart. 

“You know I do. You know I will never stop loving you and because I love you I’m letting you go because you deserve more than what I can give you” Alexander looked down and Laurens knew he understood, he knew Alexander was trying to find a reason. Something that would counter what he just said.

“I will not tarnish your marriage, your career” Laurens softened and stepped forward, letting his knuckles bush Alexander’s jaw, a ghost of a touch.

“This is for the best, my dear,” he said firmly. Alexander’s eyes met his own with definity.

“I will find you after the war. And I will drag you back with me.”

“Give your wife the best life, Alexander,” he said and with a tremor in his heart as his whole world fell around him, he walked out the door. 

He could feel Alexander’s eyes on him, most likely swimming with tears. 

Laurens held in gasps fighting against the hot tears in the cold snow. No. He could not retire tonight. The others could not see him like this.

He made his way down to the wood, to a well-visited place. 

Laurens shook his head as he slid down against a tree, breath short and coming in gasps. A sob wracked his body as he looked up at the night sky. A sky Elizabeth Hamilton was looking at and thanking her stars for such a beautiful husband, for an amazing marriage to come. 

Laurens wrapped his arms around himself and sobbed. He never cried. No. Not since he went anomalistically wild after seeing a broken little boy’s body at the bottom of a well with honey blonde hair and a gapped tooth smile. No. 

Laurens grit his teeth as panic wracked his body, his chest heaving and heart breaking apart. He would almost hear the cracks. He knew he would have to let go of this fantasy of him and Alexander, but it was too soon. 

It could have been minutes or hours when Laurens was left exhausted in the snow feeling lifeless and numb from the pain. The last of the alcohol cleared itself from his mind, serving its tour, leaving him dazed and unfeeling.  _ He deserves a good life, a life with a doting wife and children while founding a new nation and defining his legacy _ . Laurens firmly convinced himself as he drifted off staring at the placid lake.


	2. I've got this shake in my legs, shaking these thoughts from my head. Who put these waves through the door? I crack out, and pour.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Laurens has had no trouble keeping his life before the war secrecy, especially when it concerned his wife and daughter when he was utterly in love with Alexander Hamilton. Laurens had run from his past, as a way of pushing his consequences at bay, but now after years of ignorance to his blooming family in London, he gets a wake-up call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh boy, he comes a long one. It was a bit rushed as you can see, but I tried to capture guilt, desire, and shock into this more than anything. As a reader, I read fics like this too feel something so I hope you feel something too.

**_I've got this shake in my legs, Shaking the thoughts from my head. But who put these waves in the door? I crack and out I pour_ **

Valley Forge, Winter encampment, April 1778

Laurens stifled a yawn as his legs absentmindedly bounced up and down against the short, wooden desk as he carefully translated General Washington’s latest correspondences. 

Around him, the familiar scratches of quills and the mumbles of concentration of his fellow aides confirmed their attention was not in this direction. Laurens pressed his lips into a thin line, and with his heart fluttering, he placed a hand on the thigh of the man next to him. 

Alexander did not look up in surprise, shimmy away, or chide him as Laurens would have, but he leaned into the touch and let his knees gently brush Laurens’. Laurens squeezed Alexander’s thigh, just for a simple touch, something they had learned a long time ago that just a gentle brush was a reminder of their shared affection.

The days when Alexander was away, his touch missing, Laurens felt empty and fidgety, and craved his touch, no matter how much he hated himself for it. 

“Morning Sirs!” A jovial voice broke the silence as the office door swung open letting in the chilly bite of early spring. 

Snow still covered the ground, and the winds could be fiercely cold, but Spring was making her way through Valley Forge and changing the soldiers' despair into small hope. Tench Tilghman closed the door, sending a shiver down Laurens’ spine and he quickly removed his hand from Alexander’s thigh. 

His hand went cold after disconnecting and he chided himself for missing the warm flesh.  _ Don’t get addicted _ . He told himself. 

“I had to do some translations for the Baron and managed to pick up some personal letters along the way” Tilghman waved a stack of letters in front of his face. “I also hear Marquis is on his way back too,” he said, grabbing the office’s attention. 

He chuckled as he passed out the personal correspondences to each aide. Laurens was not expecting anything for him, for he had ignored his Father’s letters for the past month and had no desire to argue with him on matters that he simply would not change his mind on.

However, to his surprise, Tench stopped by his desk and handed him a delicately sealed envelope.

“For you, good Sir” Laurens mumbled his thanks as Tilghman said something to Alexander. Laurens normally would have been paying attention but the prominent red ink on the address made his heart stop. 

The rest of the world was a blur as he stared at the name. Usually, he would expect to see  _ Henry Laurens _ neatly printed and addressed from him. This time, another name stood out next to his fathers. One that dammed him every day and he-

“John!” Alexander waved a hand over Laurens’ face, startling him as he shoved the letter into his pocket. 

“The Baron requires another translator, shall I go or will you?” Laurens’ mind was spinning as he grits his teeth and said 

“My father requires me to write to him more frequently, I think I shall stay” Alexander’s eyes hardened and he bit his lip. 

Laurens knew he was supposed to offer to go with Alexander, so they could maybe take a  _ detour _ or spend some judgment free time with the Baron, but this damned letter could not wait, needed to be burned sooner needed to-

“Oh. Okay,” Alexander said without farewell as he grabbed his coat and left the office. Laurens wanted to bang his head against the desk. Run after Alexander and tell him the truth, everything.  _ It is not you, dear boy. It is my own sinful actions that lead to daily torment and conflict.  _ Larens abruptly stood up, his legs shaking slightly as he announced 

“I left some papers at the house, I must retrieve them” then he wagged a finger at Meade who smirked mischievously. “Do not steal my quills, Meade '' 

The man was infamous for snatching Laurens’ magpie quills that he brought with him from South Carolina--and only made in South Carolina. Laurens preferred the way he felt and wrote, and he learned that Alexander did too. 

He remembered how Alexander’s eyes shone when he presented them as a gift to him for Christmas. How Alexander had never received gifts for the Holidays since he was a small child. 

With unsteady fingers, he shrugged on his coat and headed out. The sky was bright, scarce of clouds and the wafting of smoke drifted over the camp, not in the desolate dreary way it did last month, but happily curling and dissipating.

The air was crisp and Laurens huffed as he made his way to the Potts house--George Washinton’s Aides’ private quarters. The doors seamlessly swung open as he entered the unlit house. It was meaningless, coming here, he could have read that damned letter in the office--he knew the other aides wouldn’t pry. 

Laurens pursed his lips and kept in the swelling panic and distress.  _ Soft and emotional _ . He could hear his father say rolling his eyes.  _ Like a girl _ . Laurens set his jaw as he climbed the winding, wooden stairs to the Garrett. It was irony, him reading a letter like this in a place where he had committed sinful, but pleasurable actions with his Alexander many a night before Mrs. Washington arrived at the encampment. 

He found a place by the small windowsill and sat down, barely sitting, more like handing off the sill and leaning. The damp wood from last month's snow was still cold as Laurens pressed a flushed forehead to calm himself.  _ You’re not obliged to anything, or anyone that you left behind, you may not even walk out of this war unscathed _ .

He tried comforting himself and almost barked of soulless laughter. Such comforts of dying to escape his commitments.  _ You should have thought of that before you married her, you should have thought of her before you fell for him, you should have thought of his intentions before you got entangled with him _ . His three disasters of attempted romance. One used him for release and pleasure, one loved him in a way he could not return, and Alexander, which Laurens knew that one day he would watch fall in love with a woman, marry, start a family and forget about him while he watches from afar, whether it be back home in South Carolina or somewhere unearthly where the souls of the deceased roamed forever. 

Laurens huffed a sigh and with sweaty fingers opened the letter. Two-three slips of expensive parchment flew out and  _ oh _ . A chain. A necklace, simple yet priceless. Silver and dainty with a locket swinging. Laurens nimbly fished it out and opened the oval to reveal.  _ Damnation _ . Laurens found himself looking at his daughter. He stuffed it in his pocket and processed to the letters, heart-pounding and thoughts jumbled and nervous. 

The first folded piece of paper was a letter from his father. It enclosed the proceedings of Congress, Military affairs and information to pass on to General Washington but at the end-

_ Jack, _

_ I have no doubt of how much you make a difference as an Aide to General Washington; However, I have to remind you of the persons you left behind when you rode off to war. I am confident that your family shall be safe and fare well in London with my In-Laws, but consider sireing another heir, for the legacy your offspring hold isn’t only yours, but mine too. A strapping son shall be efficient and maybe another daughter or two to catch an eye of a wealthy family. As the man who sired you, I implore you to think about legacy and long-term decisions--to bring Mrs. Laurens to America, have her stay at our Estate until the war is won, and raise your children yourself. As your father: the man who raised you, I must ask you to see yourself as a married man, a man who has disappointed me too many times to be my son, but my son nonetheless. Your sister Martha sends her love and your brother James asks you to come home soon--they miss your established masculinity in our household, as well as the staff who raised you. _

_ With Respect and God’s blessings  _

_ Henry Laurens, President of Congress. _

_ With Endearment, _

_ Father. _

John wanted to scream. To rip his hair out, to take a swim in a scalding hot river. To feel pain and to feel something. He scanned the letter over and overhearing his Father’s disapproving voice as felt the sing of his hand as he was beaten in his own  _ home _ as a child. He could feel the approving shock as he announced his engagement. 

Laurens could handle Henry Laurens. He could handle the cold, cunning, intelligent, persuasive, respectful congressman with which he had meaningful and productive correspondence with. 

However, with his father? The man who raised him to flinch every time he lifted his hand, even if it was just to smooth his hair? The man who frowned on him with embarrassment every time he seemed to just miss society’s standards? Laurens could not stand that man. Could not take him using the tender name his mother used to call him, and what Alexander calls him in their most affectionate moments.

Laurens crumbled the letter with the internment to burn it as he tore the envelope to see the parchment with softer handwriting, more curved and lovingly placed. He would read it. For her sake. Because even she knew as she sobbed into his shoulder condemning him with those words:  _ You only love the part of me that makes you feel normal, and I can’t help but admit I have fallen for you so deep I can’t crawl out no matter how hard I try.  _ For her, he would try to bear the regret and the nights that he would look at Alexander and think  _ What have we done to deserve the fall that comes after pride my boy _ . Laurens bit the inside of his cheek as he opened the next letter.

_ My dearest Jacky, _

Laurens cringed 

_ I wrote to your Father some time ago asking for an address to correspond to you. Like the charming man he had always been to me, he promised to send this letter directly to you through his own personal delivery services.  _

The bastard always had a soft spot for family friend Martha Manning during his childhood. His father would dote on her presenting her flowers and sweets.

_ It has been such a long time since I had last seen your face and I need to get it off my chest by saying directly to you that I miss your gentle words and touches. I need not worry about missing your face, for little Frances Eleanor is growing to be the spitting image of you each day with her honey blonde hair that ends in small tufts, to her prominent nose that accentuates her eccentric blue eyes. We have made quiet happiness here in London, for my family as Patriots have kept my doings in America quiet, society in Londen is very judgemental and specific. I do not fret for I have all I need, our darling Eleanor, sunshine, your drawings, and occasionally a word about the war. I hear of your aide to General Washington with the infamous Alexander Hamilton _

Laurens choked. He never thought the words  _ Alexander Hamilton  _ would be uttered out of his wife’s thoughts next to his daughter’s name.

_ We get little news of your doings during this time of year, but I am confident that your position is allowing your key involvement in the war. I may be a true-bred English woman, but this American cause seems worthy and valiant. In October, we celebrated our Anniversary--so near to your birthday.  _

Laurens remembers their hasty wedding in Europe, blessed by both families but nonetheless, hasty.

_ I regret not pleading with your father to send you something earlier but enclosed you will find a locket, one I wore upon my breast when you left for the Colonies. It used to have a portrait of my dear family, but now I replaced it with a recent portrait of Frances and I--something to look at and remind yourself who you’re fighting to go home to. I hope you carry this piece of myself for comfort and feel my love from across the sea. _

Laurens wanted to vomit.

_ We have so much to discuss that I cannot write in a letter so I ask of a proper time of voyage in which I may come to America and raise Frances with you. She needs to know her father before she can learn of his gaping absence and as your wife, I miss you terribly. I am intrigued by this war, and I know how gruesome and violent it can be, but I will offer my services to nurse soldiers beside you, or to just merely exist and perhaps assist the raising of your siblings besides little Frances. Frances would be influenced by your siblings and I do admit, I have been enamoured by young Martha and her soft beauty. _

Martha Manning had been a close family friend to the Laurens’ and became closer as she worked on Henry Laurens’ staff. She had not spent much time in America, just a few years as a young girl in South Carolina with no real experience of the colonies beyond that. Her parents’ overprotected nature led her to impulsively end up in Laurens’ arms and the wedding was quickly arranged after one night in fear of reproduction. 

_We did not end on proper terms and I have been needing to resolve our quarrel._

Quarrel. Well that was a huge understatement. Martha had always been a balm to Laurens. She was sweet-tempered, and understanding, unlike most southern women. Laurens can unashamedly admit that she was a picture-perfect wife--doting, worrisome, soft, motherly, relevant--something his Mother had not been. 

In an attempt to find some normalcy and to keep the whispers quiet, Laurens had indulged himself. He told himself it would hurt to experiment, to see if he could find pleasure with a woman. She was hardly his first kiss--in Geneva, he was utterly in love with Francis, but to keep up with the rest of the competitive boys, any gaggle of young, beautiful European girls would always end up being kissed by one of them, whether it be a soft brush of the lips on the cheek or knuckles or a fleeting caress upon both lips. 

Martha had been showing interest in him for weeks, bashful flirting and ardent moves with sexual innuendo, so when she invited him to bed, he didn’t object. This is what it’s supposed to feel like. He firmly convinced himself.

However, Laurens quickly realized that his attraction to Martha was strictly platonic. He didn’t feel any emotional connection until after their affair when he laid upon her bare chest as she stroked his hair as he became vulnerable to her with his feelings. Martha had always validated how he felt toward his father, politics, slavery, mostly everything and that’s what pushed him to take her as a wife--not for her sexual attraction, but for her sweet manners, loving gaze, and warm attention.

_ Sometimes I look upon our last day together as a dream. I refuse to believe some parts did happen. Your father approves of my idea to venture back to the Americas but I would rather like your blessing rather than his. I miss your company and wit, Jacky, you had always been doting and sweet and I would like to see you before this war is over. With no negative connotation or ill thoughts, I can proudly say I am Martha Manning-Laurens and I hope you can too. I would surely like to meet General George Washington’s staff--your new family and brothers in arms, but If you find yourself at conflict, I will gladly stay away. London is quite the bore Jack, I sit up all day attending to Frances, reading, sewing, and occasionally hosting tea with an insufferable childhood friend. I know this is what a Wife’s life should be and I should feel complete, but I have a feeling I could be more content in America with her innovative ideas, bustling streets, and with you, my darling. I am not sure if you will write back to me, I know your habits and mannerisms to push away those you love as a way to protect them, but I pour my heart and all the love I can muster into these words, so I know you shall not ignore me purposely. _

_ With tender love  _

_ Martha _

Laurens shuddered as his eyes flitted between the lines of words carefully thought out and obviously lovingly written. The locket in his pocket became dead weight as his mind started picking apart each sentence. 

Laurens felt her words surround him jeering and poking at him as if to scream cheater and liar as the guilt consumed him. He saw how much Martha cared and adored him, it was his own fault he could not return it. Laurens scoffed at the irony. 

Martha chased him with a love he could not return, just as he chased Francis with a love Francis said was lust, release, and nothing more. Laurens squeezed his eyes shut willing his spinning mind to secede and to retreat in a dark corner of his mind where his emotions may be laid tucked away and hidden until it all built up and crashed.

Laurens knew it was not a good idea to keep such emotion stacked in a towering wave, ready to crash after one minor incident and tip over causing destruction. Laurens knows he deserves it though. He deserves to see the raw hurt on Alexander’s face when he inevitably finds the stack of letters from Martha and the wedding ring in his trunk. He deserved the hurt after being so vulnerable to Francis and actually believing that he loved him--a notion that used to give life to him. He deserved the hot, bitter tears that Martha shed as she drunkenly confessed how ignorant Laurens had perceived her and how much she knew. How much she endured and convinced herself of her blind love. Laurens knew that 

“John?” A muffled voice from the other side of the door knocked. “Are you in there? Harrison said that you might be up here” Laurens sighed as he started to pull himself together, stitching up his overflowing wounds. 

The door opened and a breathless Alexander strode in. Laurens shuffled and crinkled the letters, hurriedly stuffing them into his coat pocket. He planned to burn them tonight. No one could know of this. Alexander tilted his head, reading Laurens’ posture and air, and then

“Tilghman told me that you had received a letter from your father” Alexander spoke softly as one does to an upset child or a spooked animal. 

“Aye,” Laurens croaked, aware of how rough his voice sounded and how much he fought against tears. Tears! He was a selfish toad. Crying for his own conflict when he would be the one hurting and manipulating his lover(s). 

Alexander huffed and came closer to Laurens. It was no surprise as the callused hand stroked his cheek and he leaned into it closing his eyes. Because he was sitting Alexander drew himself up and kissed his forehead. His lips were chapped but the touch eased Laurens.

“He expects me to carry out actions I do not think I am morally ready to perform” Laurens whispers half to himself. Alexander eases Laurens to his feet as he lets himself rest his head on Alexander’s shoulder. He needn’t explain. Alexander knows how much of an effect his father has on him. 

Laurens looks into Alexander’s eyes. His normally clear violet is now stormy with passion and… and love.

“I will pull you from the tide. Always my dear, but stop torturing yourself, you are enough.” Laurens is so heavy with laden emotion he cannot answer except with a choked sound in which Alexander holds him closer.

\-----

Later that night when Alexander was sated and asleep from their recent tryst, he snuck away feeling dirty and unsatisfied with his actions and trudged to the nearest bar. Yes, Alexander would always be there for him and would always take care of him, but because of that, he needed to be alone. 

Laurens could arguably say that the pleasure Alexander drew from him was authentic and not superficial, but afterward, he reminded himself of the sweet words Martha wrote him and was suddenly disgusted with himself. He debated for a long time whether he should go out and drink or dive into correspondence. He cracked and settled for a drink. 

The bar was mostly empty, it was scarce for customers to freeload in a bar like this in the early hours of the morning, but Laurens found himself nursing a third glass of beer.  _ Who decided that my fate should be this? A married man with a perfect wife and child should be content, but here he is off at war in a tryst to another man.  _ In a drunken view he glanced around, lights and colors a blur and a blackout looming over.  _ Good.  _ He thought as his glass was refilled.  _ I surely deserve my consequences _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay. Home historical inaccuracies are prominent here. I know Laurens and Manning married in late October and his birthday is somewhere around there. This chapter was so draining (as character studies can be) but I do hope you enjoyed it. I am totally not going to be as frequently updating, but I really wanted to get this fic going! Leave a comment and tell me what you want to see next! Stay safe!


	3. I’m Mr. Loverman. And I miss my lover, man. I’m Mr. Loverman. Oh, and I miss my lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Schuylkill River. What more do I have to say other than to prepare the tissues. 
> 
> "'You promised you fool,' Laurens whispered. 'You promised you would never leave me and look at you now'”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey-o! Happy Holidays everyone! I celebrate Christmas but as my gift to all of you, I am updating you with an extremely angsty and emotional update that will have your heart shattered! What's better than that? I decided to make this the infamous Schuylkill river incident and basically magnify Laurens' feelings and whatnot. ANyway, I kinda rushed myself at the end but enjoy and leave a comment!

**_I’m Mr. Loverman. And I miss my lover, man. I’m Mr. Loverman. Oh, and I miss my lover_ **

September 18, 1777, Headquarters, New Jersey

Laurens paced the length of headquarters, heels sharply digging into the wood panels, lips pursed, and posture tense. They should have been back hours ago.  _ Hours ago _ . Around him, General George Washington’s other Aide de Camps were settling into the new headquarters in New Jersey--unfolding their travel desks, laying out quills and pens and spare parchment, and of course, setting up the designated waste bin where the wads of paper would stack up so high, it would be taller than some of the enlisted boys.

“Give it a break Laurens, they probably just ran into a patrol and have to hide out for the night” Fitzgerald complained running a hand through his hair. Laurens turned on his heel again and he felt his fellow Aides wince.

“Ah, but no my good Sir, Laurens cannot help but worry for his petite Hamilton” Meade grinned, his eyes dancing. Laurens quirked an eyebrow, his pulse pounding in his ears, they cannot know! Can they?

“And what do you mean Sir?” Laurens stiffly asked, still pacing, chewing on his bottom lip. Meade leaned back in his chair.

“Why, anyone can clearly see how you dote on each other like an old married couple” Meade jested and earned pleasant laughs from the other aides. Laurens forced himself to crack a small smirk. Only a jest. 

“Why is that so?” Laurens swore he heard Tilghman snort

“Dear Laurens, do you not see how your minds work as one these days? Many a time do we see you herding Hammie to bed or quarreling over something hilariously stupid” The other aides murmured in agreement and Laurens cursed his fair tones as he fought blush creeping into his cheeks.

“Well, They should have returned hours ago, it was just a flour mill” the room grew silent at this remark and the sound reduced to the quiet scratching of pens and quills upon paper. 

“Laurens is quite correct” The whole company turned their heads toward the hunched-over figure of their General, writing away his own correspondence, a weary look in his eyes. “They were commissioned to return hours ago” Washington sighed and turned back to whatever letter he was writing as the air in the room tensed. They had moved headquarters as Washington speculated General Howe’s move to Philadelphia, rather than New York. His anticipation was correct and at Brandywine, both troops fought for eleven bloody hours and resulted in British Victory. 

After some skirmishes and raids since Laurens had been placed in Washington’s office to volunteer, Brandywine was his first major battle, and his ignored injuries resulted in a bruised ankle from a musket ball. He was still healing, limping as he paced headquarters until finally-

“At east Laurens, there is nothing we can do until a messenger comes or they return, swiftly with God’s will” Washington’s stormy gaze met Laurens’ and he knew that was an order. Laurens eased into his chair, leg bouncing anxiously.

“My God Laurens, do something productive, you’re driving us up a wall!” Meade exclaimed reaching over Hamilton’s empty desk to poke his arm.  _ Hamilton’s empty desk _ . This torment would not stop until he saw his Hamilton back alive and uninjured. With a hard gaze, he grabbed some paper, determined to write a letter to his father. He had been ignoring the man for quite some time now, and Laurens guessed it was something to take his mind off of things. However, as he put pen to paper words didn’t come out of the end, but light strokes connecting to form a shape, a shape Laurens stared at a lot, with sparkling eyes, furrowed brows, and a quirked lip in concentration. 

By the time Laurens knew what he was doing, he was looking at a sketch. Biting the inside of his cheeks he stared at it and then his hands as they betrayed him. He hadn’t drawn since he was an inexperienced boy, since his father demanded him to grow up and stop acting like a lovesick girl. The sting of the hit still vertebrated across his skin. 

Laurens had always been fascinated with planets and herbs, learning their names by heart and their use, so when the time came to journal, he taught himself to draw them, spending hours at the drawing board, tongue out in concentration and his Mother at the piano with her tinkling laugh. He was surprised his hands still knew what to do, the light brush strokes this way, and then the harder brush strokes that way. He turned his head the sketch of Alexander perfectly capturing every feature knitted in concentration as he wrote some important correspondence. It wasn’t his best work, but Laurens admired it as he yearned to stroke the stray hairs away from Alexander’s face, but it was only a drawing. Alexander was somewhere along the Schuylkill River setting flame to flour mills before the British could confiscate it. A mission Laurens would have been assigned to if not for his damned ankle from Brandywine.

Laurens folded the drawing and tucked it away in his coat pocket with a sigh as officers flitted to and fro headquarters bringing reports that were not of Alexander’s return or departure. 

“General!” A muffled yell from outside Headquarters followed the commotion of officers and heavy hoofbeats of a horse. “General!” Came the same voice, now storming through the door, soaked in rain, his eyes wild and hair windswept.

“Captain Lee'' Washington abruptly stood up and almost raced over to the Captain. Laurens felt something tighten in his chest. So this was Captain Henry Lee that was ordered to lead Alexander’s mission. Where was Alexander though?

It was as if Washington had heard Laurens’ thought or maybe he was just as anxious as Laurens was for he almost barked 

“Mission. Report” With his jaw clenched and eyes blazing. Admirably, the Captain did not balk or flinch like lesser officers would have when Washington was in this mood.

“British Cavalry outnumbered us, Sir, sentries fired warning shots and the calvary arrived chasing us back as their fired their dragoons at us before we could set fire to the mills” something featured in Washington’s jaw but the roar in Laurens’ ears grew as he fought to pay attention. The other Aides’ eyes were glued to the Captain.

“Where are your men Captain” Lee winced and Laurens dug his fingers into his knees, fighting the urge to stand.

“We had casualties, men wounded, horses shot and men dead” The silence was palpable but heavy.

“Hamilton?” Washington asked. Lee stood tall and honorable but Laurens could tell he fought the urge to shy away and flinch.

“His horse was shot out from underneath him and he was forced into the river” The Captain swallowed. “He didn’t resurface” Laurens stood up, chair scraping against the wood, no one turned their heads as Laurens felt himself pale.

“What are you saying, Lee?” Washington said with quiet fury, a tone he rarely used.

“Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton is dead, one of the casualties” Washington stilled, he gave no emotion as he dismissed the Captain and sunk into his seat, turning to Laurens.

The roar grew louder and louder until Laurens wanted to sink into the ground and scream  _ He’s not dead! He cannot be dead!  _ His heart was pounding faster than it had ever been and his surroundings melted away. His breath became short, rising and falling too quickly.

It was like something was sitting on his chest, Laurens couldn’t breathe. He needed to get out. He needed to-

“Laurens?” A soft voice hurled him back to reality as Meade placed a soft hand on his shoulder. Laurens spun around and he couldn't take it. They were screaming in his head.  _ He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead. He isn’t coming back. You will never see him again and it is your fault. Your fault.  _ He couldn’t take it. Couldn’t take the mournful gaze Washington set upon him because Alexander Hamilton was not dead. There was no possible way in humanity that he  _ drowned _ . Of all deaths of glory, he  _ drowned _ . 

So he ran. He bolted out the door, past soldiers and officers that toiled about in ignorance that  _ His Alexander was gone _ . Laurens ran. He pushed through men, knocking them down and not caring, winter air biting at his lungs. He forgot his coat at headquarters. It didn’t matter. He couldn’t feel anything. 

Laurens finally came upon the small wood and sunk down a tree trunk, gulping air and fighting the panic. He knew he should be crying, producing some emotion but all he could feel was callused fingers brushing his cheeks and 

A sob pushed its way through Laurens's body. A dry sob shaking his frame as the wet ground from rain dampened his breeches. The cold was good. It hurt. Laurens grappled at his sleeves, tightening an embrace around himself, the world closing in with a jeering face. 

“You promised you fool,” Laurens whispered. “You promised you would never leave me and look at you now” his voice was oddly high and shook like a leaf in the wind. 

“Please come back” he sobbed begging his body to produce tears, something that was evident of his emotions. 

“I need you” panic constricted his chest as the finality of his death set in. He just wanted one more kiss. One more secretive brush in the office. One more glance. 

Laurens knew that these moments wouldn’t last forever. He knew that one day he would have to give Alexander up so he could flourish as a politician, building a new nation, and so he could settle down with an adoring wife and children to carry out his legacy, but now-

Laurens choked on a sob, his chest heaving, a drumbeat pounding in his head, darkness threatening to swallow him, but he pushed it away, pushed away the tears and the emotions that spilled over the cup, overflowing as Laurens desperately tried to secure the walls around his well-guarded emotions. 

It was all too much. How could he ever keep going? Keep living, not just surviving, but actually living without that bright smile and those twinkling eyes?

Laurens knew that he may never see the Continentals' victory against the British. He knew and was comfortable with death on the battlefield in glory--fighting for his country and for freedom but  _ Alexander was supposed to see the end.  _ He was supposed to-

No. They could not go on. Laurens would not allow it, he would not allow the staff to grievingly move on and win the war  _ without  _ him. 

The dark chasm opened up to him whispering with voices of poison and malice. He didn’t deserve Alexander. He shouldn’t feel anything if he had learned anything from the last time. He should have kept his heart more guarded. This, this, this  _ feeling _ was all his fault. If only he had-

Laurens let out a cry that broke from deep inside of him. It wasn’t loud, or deep, but raw.

Weak. The voices sneered and laughed. Overemotional. Deaths more important happen every day in the war. And then he heard his father beneath all the whispers. The deep baritone that emitted disappointment and hardness.  _ Pull yourself together and stop weeping like a lady in distress. If you have any honor you will go on! _

Laurens's lip quivered. He would mourn, but not like this. He would mourn as he did for any good soldier, not as he did for Jemmy, sinking into the ground, clawing at the body and gravestone like a maniac. No. He would be strong. For Alexander. 

Laurens rose to his feet, limbs shaking and numb from the cold. As he steadied himself, a voice that oddly sounded like his father rewarded him.

Better to numb any emotion then go insane with grief. It told him. Something struggled as the darkness slowly yawned and then vanished. He took a deep breath. It was shakier than he would have liked, but it was better than nothing. 

Schooling a face into something somewhat neutral, Laurens set off to the office. He would pick up his papers and retire for the night. He would rather just retire, but the Aides would worry as they always did over their family. The building grew closer and Laurens found his breath becoming shorter. He mentally slapped himself and opened the door.

The air was tense as he stepped in. Washington’s desk was abandoned and his chair was still pushed away and skewered. Some heads raised as he walked in, but most were hung low, murmuring to another officer or mourning.

Mourning what?

Laurens knew what.

“Laurens?” Fitzgerald’s normal jolly voice was low and gravelly. “Thank the Lord you’re alright, we were worried about where you’d run off to” Meade looked him up and down

“You’re frozen, come and sit by the candlelight, we know this must be hard but-” Laurens heart quickened, but stepped away

“I-I” He cursed himself at his shaky voice. “I was just announcing that I would be retiring early this night” He started backing away like a scared animal.

“Laurens-” Meade started but Harrison put a hand on Meade’s shoulder murmuring something like

“Lay off from the poor Sir, he needs time alone before he can come to us” Laurns hated how weak he felt. He despised how his friends looked to him with pity and sorrow he-

“Well, I will see you in the morning Sirs” His words were clipped, emotionless as he strode out the door feeling the stares of sympathy into his back. 

Laurens slammed the door to the Garrett aggressively as he lit a candle. The Potts house was abandoned, save for him, so he was completely alone. Just as he always was. Just as he was until a certain flaming haired, passionate, sparkling, aide de camp came into his life, bringing pure joy into it for the first time-

Laurens shook his head. No need to dwell on the past as long as he had his future about him. 

Unlike Alexander.

Laurens sighed and cradled his head into his hands, a headache already pounding at his temples. 

Probably from the tears pricking in his eyes.

Laurens bit his tongue, willing the blurry vision to secede, but was unsuccessful as one silent, cold tear escaped and ran down his cheek and pressed lips, all the way down to his jaw. It was unfair how this tear got to touch all the places Alexander loves to kiss. 

Loved.

Laurens felt dull. He knew something was wrong with him as he knew he should be crying. Something to remind him how hurt he should be but nothing. He was empty. A bottomless pit of nothing. It was almost comical. He must have been a defect. Built wrongly but God still decided to send him to this cruel earth as an experiment, or maybe to jest and have a laugh. 

No. Laurens had not done  _ this _ . This shutting down since he found a broken body at the bottom of a well. Unmoving. Laurens clawed at his hair as the door opened-

_ Christ! _ He forgot to lock the door! And in his spiral, he had been unaware of the footsteps approaching and  _ no one could see him like this- _

“John! Are you in here? Meade said you had retired and I-” The door swung opened and Laurens almost gaped.

Standing in the door frame, sopping wet from head to toe, his hair limp, outfit heavy and dripping everywhere was-

“No” Laurens cut him off. Alexander stared at him as he turned away.

“This cannot be real, my mind must be playing a cruel illusion or trick to soothe the pain, let me be” His voice was low and it undignifyingly cracked. 

“John” Laurens didn’t respond.

“It’s me.” Alexander or the illusion of him approached Laurens. Why not? Laurens thought. It won’t hurt to indulge my imagination. 

“You’re dead Alexander. Drowned in the Schuylkill River. Many men saw you go under and not resurface and-” Alexander cut Laurens off, pressing his lips to his. They were cold, wet, but they were solid. 

“I had no choice to swim to the other side of the river to avoid the Redcoats seeing me. It was dark so they didn’t see my resurface but I did. I swam until I reached our part of the camp and then walked here, my horse was shot” Alexander pressed his forehead to Laurens’. 

A mistake? Was Captain Lee’s report truly a mistake? 

Laurens traced a ghostly hand against Alexander’s cheek, solid, again. 

And with a cry, he threw himself onto Alexander, crushing him in an embrace. Arms wrapping themselves around his torso and undoubtedly squeezing the air of out him. It was almost like wringing out a cloth for colder, wet water was produced, generally soaking Laurens, but he didn’t care. 

Laurens let out a web sob, tears now thickly falling. He was openly weeping, well, more like hysterically crying, but the whispers were drowned out by relief and love and-

“You were gone” He whispered shakily into Alexander’s shoulder. His chest was heaving like before, but now he let the emotions override him.   
“You weren’t coming back” Alexander held Laurens close to him, kissing the back of his neck.

“I promised to never leave you Jack” They broke apart only for Laurens to launch his lips onto Alexander. Their kiss wasn’t rushed nor filled with lust or passion, but a sweet love and reassurance. Laurens slipped his tongue into Alexander’s mouth, their touches brushing and caressing each other. 

“I love you” Laurens murmured between sobs against Alexander’s lips. Alexander held Laurens’ face in his hands, both of them soaked in cold water, but neither unhappy.

“I swear” Alexander’s violet eyes were large and sincere, every ounce of love showing and making Laurens shake under Alexander’s touch. 

“I will never leave you my Jack, until the end of time, I will always be here”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE. MY HEART.
> 
> Sources:  
> https://www.ushistory.org/brandywine/special/art08.htm  
> http://www.let.rug.nl/usa/biographies/alexander-hamilton/aide-de-camp-to-washington-(1777-1781).php  
> https://www.nps.gov/vafo/learn/historyculture/johnlaurens.htm#:~:text=John%20Laurens%20was%20invited%20to,camp%20in%20early%20August%201777.&text=The%20campaign%20for%20Philadelphia%20was,Brandywine%20on%20September%2011%2C%201777.
> 
> Updating soon! Thank you for all the Kudos!  
> Comment what you wanna see next and thoughts!


	4. The ways in which you talk to me, have me wishing I were gone. The ways that you say my name, have me running on and on

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He cocked the gun and reversed it so it pointed inward. So odd to feel it pointed at himself. Laurens closed his eyes with determination. It will be better this way"
> 
> PURE ANGST

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *with a pained smile* Grab your tissues!
> 
> WARNING! Attempted Suicide in this chapter so if you are triggered or uncomfortable, please skip past this, I would never want to trigger anyone or hurt anyone with what I'm writing about so if you cannot handle things like this, please click off!

**_The ways in which you talk to me, have me wishing I were gone. The ways that you say my name, have me running on and on_ **

1777

It was one of those days. The days where the dark whispers lay dormant in your mind, as they follow you around taunting you into guilt and despair. Laurens could barely concentrate on his work, his good nature and temperament abnormally short and frustrating. He answered questions with clipped words and with no patience what-so-ever.

He had already scared off young volunteers with his short fuse and impatient attitude, even his fellow aides had the better sense to back off after he snapped at them for petty reasonings.

Laurens wished he could blame it on the dreary weather, or the despair on the recent outlook of General Washington’s recent failure of their ongoing campaign, he wished he could blame it on his father’s pestering letters, or even-

It wasn’t any use, for Laurens knew sooner or later he would have to confront the root of his bad mood. 

It was the combination of his recent distantness, how a dark fog seemed to settle over his mind making him feel more worthless the usual and of course, pulling his normal triggers so his snappish temperament would surface quickly, hurting others and sending him into a useless quarrel, and resulting in, well, whatever this was.

Laurens knew he was being petty, and the reason for Alexander’s also restless and irritated attitude was entirely his fault, and blaming it on someone else would just be a fruitless attempt to shift accountability. 

It was a comfort to know that at least Laurens wasn’t being as unsociable as Alexander was, he was just more...distant. 

The other aides had picked up on the tension between them, from the stretching and unusual distance between their (normally) pushed together desks, how they avoided one another at mealtimes, and rarely spoke more than a few words to each other, exclusive to “Will you pass me that paper?” or “can you bring this to his Excellency for me please?” 

Meade even had the nerve to approach Laurens about it.

It had been after hours, and Laurens knew he should be retiring, but Alexander had retired early, more likely furiously writing in the security of the Garret then in the office than sleeping. He and Alexander had been avoiding each other for the past four days--meaning Laurens would only sleep when Alexander stayed up until dawn working and vise versa, it wasn’t ideal but Laurens supposed it was a big  _ screw you _ to him. 

“Laurens” Meade exclaimed halfway through a yawn. “You must be exhausted Sir, tis only a half-hour past sunrise and I suspect you have been down here since last night!” Meade was stretching his limbs and shaking the sleep from his body.

“I would say the same for you, Sir, what are you doing awake at this ungodly hour?” Laurens drove the nearing awkward conversation away from Alexander and his quarrel.

“His Excellency needed me to escort some officers from New York to encampment, but that is not important” Meade dragged a chair from under a desk, scraping against the wood.

“I know it’s not my place to interfere, I know what I promised you” Laurens cursed his fair complexion as he fought a blush.

“However, I have noticed the tension between you and Hammie for days now and I cannot help but wonder about the importance of your quarrel if it has lasted so long with such drastic measures to avoid such persons” Laurens breathed through his nose, a look of frustration creeping over his features as he tried to school his expression into neutrality. 

“You are right Meade, It is not your place to say” he dismissed Meade, more hotly than he should. The man clicked his tongue, showing the amount of disapproval Laurens knew that someone might interpret one way, but he knew Meade respected their boundaries, but at the same time sincerely wished for his good nature with Hamilton to return.

_ Christ _ . Hamilton would be the death of him someday.  _ Or you will be the death of him _ , some impertinent voice chided. 

It was true, ever since their disagreement, Alexander had clearly not been taking care of himself. He was rarely seen at meals, his frame looked like he would topple over at one poke and his eyes had a sickly pallor to them with purple bags underneath them, not at all concealing the frantic energy in his (normally clear and sparkling with passion) stormy violet eyes. 

Laurens knew he would be called a mother hen, or obsessive, but he had been noticing the amount of coffee Hamilton had been consuming each day. It was an ungodly amount Laurens knew only Hamilton could consume without over stimulating himself. 

Laurens heard Meade get up and his sturdy hand clapped his shoulder, sympathy radiating from him. Laurens didn’t need to turn to know the face of pity Meade wore.

“I may not understand now, or may never understand how you can harbor the affections that you do” Laurens’ eyes burned into the paper, stilling.

“But your quarrel with Hammie dampens the mood of all of us and I know on the behalf of the office, good nature is more easily achieved when you are on each other’s better terms.” Laurens pursed his lips as Meade released his hand.

“I may not interact with you nearly as much as Ham does, but I do notice your tension and how much you are bothered, so do try to resolve your argument” Meade stepped out of the room leaving Laurens clenching his pen with red knuckles and him gripping his paper almost to the point where it crumbled.

Laurens knew that Meade meant well, it had been the worst days of his life, waiting in anticipation in which Meade would decide to condemn him and Alexander or let them be after he discovered them late at night, drunk and undone.

Laurens was thankful to all the saints and dark gods that Meade promised them that “he didn’t see anything” and that he would go about his business as if nothing had happened, but he saw Meade sneaking secretive glances at every interaction Alexander and he had, and when Meade felt confident, made jests at the pair with sexual innuendo--thankfully none of the other aides picked up on it, they laughed while Laurens fought down a red face.

It was preposterous though, Meade trying to give him advice. Laurens fought the urge to turn over his desk, sending it satisfyingly into splinters, feeding the aching need to scream, punch something, to let know how hurt he was. 

No. He would just bury down the urge with a firm swallow and perhaps a walk through camp to get fresh air. Yes, that would be a good idea, he may not be getting any rest for the next day, but a walk to stretch his joints seemed ideal. 

Huffing, Laurens stood up, his back creaking as he stretched up tall to his full height. His jacket was swung over the back of his chair as he shrugged it on. It was stiff for sitting for so long, but it was better than nothing. 

The house was quiet, no candles lit as he ventured out of the office. All the other Aides didn’t as much stir as he moved past their sleeping quarters. On the other hand, he could almost hear a certain murmuring, and then thumps, like someone pacing. Laurens glanced toward the winding stairs, and he confirmed his suspicions. Candlelight flickered from somewhere upstairs, and he would bet all his money that it came from Garrett.

Laurens shook his head, refusing to dwell on the occupant that was awake upstairs as he made his way outside. 

The sun hadn't completely risen and still painted pink and purple across the dark sky. Her rays were bright and warm against the nearing cold. It shone on the trees doned with golden leaves as they started to fall, winter season approaching.

When he was a boy, Laurens knew that moments like these would leave him in awe as he would race for a pencil and some paper to sketch the beautiful moment down. Now when he searched for emotion, all he felt was emptiness and a little irritation. 

As Laurens strode throughout the camp, soldiers exited their tents, yawing with their uniform halfway on and cursing the bright sunlight.

Laurens walked on. 

It had been like this for weeks now, this growing emptiness. It started after Alexander returned from Schuylkill. It was like he wrung all the emotion out of him and was left dry and unchecked. He would wake up gasping for air, his dreams shifting from a honey blonde boy with an infectious laugh being lowered into the ground to his Father and his poisonous words telling him it was always his fault, his fault,  _ his fault, _ and then he would see the damage he made at Germantown. He was an honorable man, people told him, so brave to fight for his country like that. He wished he could scream at them,  _ Tell that to John White! He’s dead because of his blind admiration and my bravery got him where?  _

But as always, Laurens would push down the grief and the emotion. He couldn’t burden someone else with his baggage, his trauma, his darkness. 

Laurens could bear it though. His Alexander couldn’t read minds, but he could detect when Laurens would slowly peel himself away from the present and would knock sense into him.  _ Dark moods _ , Laurens would explain them as and Alexander would nod and understand. They may not have the same exact experiences, but he knew Alexander’s dark moods were expressed in how poorly he took care of himself or how hyper he would become until he dropped into illness.

But now, Alexander and he purposefully sacrificed sleep so they didn’t have to face the other. It was childish and petty but Laurens couldn’t find the strength to convince himself to talk to the man. 

Laurens knew it was his fault. And he knew he wasn’t blaming himself unreasonably, he knew that he had kept things from Alexander that worsened their situation.

_ “I knew society would proclaim I was committing sodomy when I indulged myself into this endeavor, but never would I have guessed that I would become a  _ **_mistress_ ** _ to my lover” _

The words still stung, and Laurens knew he deserved it. He played their argument over and over, letting himself fall into a pit of guilt and regret. 

Laurens found himself outside the artillery tent. Well, you could say it was an artillery tent, but it was mostly used for storage.

He pushed the flap open and ducked in.

No one was in at the moment so he lit a candle, lighting up the space full of boxes of weapons, uniforms, scarce food, the little inventory the army carried with them. 

It was quiet in here, for it was on the outskirts of the camp. The noise of the awakening camp was drowned out by the wind and rustling of the leaves. It granted peace in Laurens’ mind, silencing some of the roar that ended up in a throbbing headache. 

_ Unworthy. _

_ Useless. _

_ Liar. _

_ Cheater. _

_ Your Fault. _

Laurens closed his eyes in an attempt to put his conscience to rest. He knew it was no use as that night burned into his memories, replaying.

_ It had been a bore of a day, productive, but boring. A pattern, Laurens realized as the army settled into winter encampment. Wearily, Laurens bid a good night to the other Aides as they stumbled to bed and he began the long climb up the narrow stairs to the garret. _

_ Shockingly, Alexander had retired to bed first, but Laurens suspected it was due to a quarrel he had with Washington earlier that day and he wished to have some peace and quiet while tending to “personal affairs”. He always said that with a smirk and sometimes a “just you wait John” when Laurens tried to lure him to sleep.  _

_ Laurens’ steps were heavy as he found candlelight to be seeping from underneath the doorway. It flicked rapidly telling Laurens that it had been burning for quite some time. It would take a lot of coaxing for Alexander to join him to bed this night.  _

_ “Have you been working this whole time-” Laurens said jokingly as he opened the door. He cut himself off to find Alexander on the wrong side of the room. _

_ Usually, Alexander worked on a little travel desk with his letterbox spewing with papers as he furiously scribbled essays, finances, letters, you name it and Alexander had it stored in his secretive box. However, on this night, he was seated by Laurens’ trunk, the one he hadn’t opened since his arrival to Valley Forge and rarely opened since they acquired a nightstand that held drawers for their clothes. _

_ Alexander jumped, not hearing Laurens come up the stairs and dropped some papers he was holding. Laurens sighed and crossed the room, not thinking of the abnormalcy and stooping to pick the papers up. _

_ “Why are you working over here dear? The candlelight is much better over the-” Laurens stilled, recognizing the papers. His tired, clouded mind instantly cleared. _

_ Now, there is an expression that all humanity wears when they have been caught, it is a look where your heart has stopped and your breathing shallow, eyes wide and face still. Well, at this moment Alexander was frozen, holding a small box and his  _ _ hands still in the angle they were when they held the papers.  _

_ It didn’t take long for Laurens to recognize the box and what it held. _

_ Before Laurens knew what he was doing he snatched the box away and stuffed the letters back in his trunk. _

_ “You’re married” Alexander’s face was ghostly, his words crisp and clear and Laurens knew they condemned him.  _

_ “You have a wife and child” Alexander whispered, staring at the box Laurens had slipped into his pocket, the one that held his wedding ring. Laurens knew he had to say something. Apologize, just something! But nothing came out of his mouth, his mind of spinning. His worst nightmares were coming true.  _

_ Laurens knew somewhere, his demons were cackling _

_ “This whole time, you were married, with a child! And you never-” Alexander’s voice started to rise as he cut himself off with a clenched jaw. _

_ “I am starting to think that everything that you said to me is a lie” A cold look passed over Alexander’s face. John stuttered and opened his mouth but Alexander quickly cut him off. _

_ “What am I to you, John? You say I was only yours to love but I see here you were coveting a wife and child across the sea, hiding this information with me in fear of someone finding out” The words were sharp and tone rising with every syllable. _

_ “It was a mistake,” Laurens tried. “Encouraged by my father--I had no choice” Alexander made a face. _

_ “Then why did you try to hide it?” Alexander yelled over Laurens. “I know how your affection for women is nonexistent so what does that say about us?” Alexander stepped forward and Laurens fought the urge to flinch. _

_ “Am I just a statement to your father, an act of rebellion just to prove your point that you  _ **_do not love your wife and child?_ ** _ Or am I just your whore, a place to find release and pleasure until you return to your wife” Laurens wanted to scream. This couldn’t end like Francis. He could be left again.  _

**_You’re Francis in this situation_ ** _. Something told him.  _

_ “No!” Laurens cried instead. “I have told you many times I love only you! Martha was only to-” _

_ “Only to serve her purpose? Only to produce an heir for the Laurens’ legacy and then leave her?” Laurens knew he was playing devil's advocate. He knew Alexander was hurt and had every right to be and Laurens knew he would be shut down with every possible reason Alexander didn’t believe in if it meant he got hurt too. _

_ “Do you even love her?” The words cut deep into Laurens and something broke inside of him. It was the tipping point of how far he could go. It was the last drop of water that pushed over the cup, sending the flood. It was the last straw.  _

_ Laurens exploded. _

_ “No! I don’t love her! Is that what you want to hear Hamilton? You want to hear how I was pressured into her arms? How she courted me and escorted me to bed? Me all the while trying to convince myself that she would harbor normalcy into my sinful attractions?” Laurens took a breath, his voice yelling at top volume now, tears threatening to spill. He didn’t care at this point. _

_ “You want to hear that I am tormented every day with my actions, how with a woman I cannot return her love as she loves me with all her soul? How do I feel dirty with another man? Upright? Yet I cannot win! With either, I am shamed and-” _

_ “You find what we have  _ **_dirty?_ ** _ ” Alexander almost screamed and silenced Laurens. He had said too much. Panic surrounded Laurens. _

_ “You think I disgusting? My attractions revolting?” Laurens clamped his mouth closed. _

_ “You should have told me” Alexander yelled. “We would have worked something out, talked even! Yet you and your pride always come first, always your reputation,  _ **_you, you, you_ ** _ ” Alexander stepped back with a cold look in his eyes that could slice wood. _

_ “We are done” He folded his arms around himself with hostility. “I knew society would proclaim I was committing sodomy when I indulged myself into this endeavor, but never would I have guessed that I would become a  _ **_mistress_ ** _ to my lover” Laurens was helpless, wordless as Alexander hissed at him _

_ “I will not be involved with you and your toxicity no longer, your lies and deceit are over Laurens, I cannot believe I allowed myself to think that you deserved me” Laurens couldn’t take it anymore. He knew he was being a coward, but it was all too much.  _

_ So he ran.  _

Laurens opened his eyes, what he felt a lifetime later. Birds chirped and sunlight kissed the outside of the tent. It was almost comical how nature turned a blind eye toward what went on in her kingdom. 

He moved ahead toward a table, rifles, and guns spread out before him. He let his dexterous, pale fingers brush the cool metal-

“Sir!” Laurens whipped around to find one of the volunteer boys standing in the tent, startled and honestly, disgruntled. He snatched his hand away from the rifles and stuffed it into his pocket.

“I do beg your pardon,” Laurens nimbly said nodding his head. “I was just taking inventory” It was a good lie. Usually, Hamilton took inventory, but he supposed this boy wouldn’t know the better.

“Ah, that’s what I was sent here by Colonel Hamilton Sir” Laurens nodded avoiding the name

“Well, tell Ham that I am already completing the task, so he need not worry” The boy nodded and vanished from the tent. Those nervous volunteers, so eager to fight but in the face of superiority, they shake. 

He was alone again. Laurens took a shaky breath and extended his hand back to the weapons. 

They were not as impressive as the ones he studied in Geneva but they would do. 

_ You don’t have to do this.  _

_ Yes, I do. _

_ At least see the continentals victory _

_ Everyone will be better off without me. I am too much of a burden _ .

He had thought about this. 

Laurens grabbed a rifle, unused. 

It had been a glinting knife in his cot in Geneva. 

He searched for gunpowder

Now he knew the time was right. It was unfixable, his situation.

He filled the rifle, assembling her like second nature, his fingers moving with habit

He and Alexander were over, those happy days never again.

His hands were steady as he flicked off the safety guard 

He and Martha would never be the same. And his child--he didn’t deserve one. He could never be a father. He could never become his father.

He cocked the gun and reversed it so it pointed inward. So odd to feel it pointed at himself.

Laurens closed his eyes with determination. It will be better this way. He will see Jemmy. He will see John White. 

_ Coward _ . Something inside told him. He was almost giddy as  _ that would be the last time those dark whispers chided him _ .

One last deep breath. 

Time slowed as he put pressure on the trigger. 

There was no going back now as he-

There was a cry from outside and then something, or someone tackled him, forcing him to the ground and the gun out of his reach. Laurens’ eyes flew open to see a familiar weight pinning him down, a face drawn into worry and desperation staring at him.

The face had violet eyes.

It was as time caught up to him and Laurens let out a strangled sob. 

Alexander pulled Laurens close, gasps leaving the former as Laurens buried his head into Alexander’s shoulder.

“Don’t you dare John Laurens” Alexander clutched Laurens tightly, his fingers gripping the back of his shirt

“Don’t ever think of leaving me you fool” 

They stayed like that for some time. Not crying but letting all emotions go, silently resolving their quarrel. Laurens knew they would talk soon, he knew they would fight, he knew that they would work it out through yelling and tears, but for now, he grasped Alexander firmly, clinging onto him like a lifeline. 

At this moment Laurens finally understood. They may hate each other, not speak, be stubborn beyond belief, but when it came down to life and death, whether Alexander had forgiven him or not, they would always come for each other and save one another, for deep down they knew to live without the other would be unbearable torture. 

“I love you my dear boy” a beat then a hoarse whisper of 

"Thank you” 

“Always my Jack, I will never stop loving you for as long as I exist” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oKaY what did I just read? This may be my best and favorite chapter of this fic, I spent so much time and emotional thinking into this crafting it so you feel the anticipation and just PURE ANGST. I warned ya'll.
> 
> Comment letting me know what you want to see next and what I can improve on! I am definitely more confident about this chapter than the last one.
> 
> Happy New Year everyone! Consider this a new year's gift to you all! 
> 
> Stay safe!


	5. Oh I'm cramping up, I'm cramping up. But you're cracking up, you're cracking up.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hamilton and Laurens have been eyeing each other for weeks now, their close friendship now holding secretive sexual tension when Hamilton invites Laurens for a night swim.
> 
> “But I will have you, John Laurens. When we have some privacy, I will elicit moans greater than this night and explore every inch of your body. I swear, Sir”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> enjoy this fluffy oneshot as I give ya'll a break from the angst :))))

**_Oh, I'm cramping up, I'm cramping up, But you're cracking up, You're cracking up_ **

Pre-Brandywine 

Laurens watched Hamilton wade into the water, his auburn waves dampening and hanging loose against his freckled body. Unintentionally Laurens’ eyes roved over Hamilton’s nude figure in the glittering, dark water under the moonlight.

Hamilton turned toward Laurens with a teasing smirk and beckoned him with a “come hither” gesture. Laurens pressed his lips together.  _ This was a mistake _ .

It had been a long day of marching when the General decided to rest for the night. Sweaty and exhausted Laurens did not look forward to a hard bedroll, squished in between snoring soldiers. However, Hamilton, with a mischievous twinkle in his violet eye, dragged Laurens to this small, secluded pond of freshwater.

Hamilton told Laurens to undress and promptly dove into the water. Laurens supposed he was proposing they bathe. 

_ We’re just comrades, friends, soldiers in arms. He only told me to come because we are friends, he needed someone to watch his back as he bathed _ . Laurens nervously thought. It rather felt as though he was trying to convince himself.

Laurens drew his eyes away from Hamilton’s lithe figure, it was not “skinny” but lean and muscled legs and a nice, round, curved-

Laurens snapped his head up and furiously undressed, shucking his dirty clothes on top of Hamilton’s. His body protested against the cold of the water, but Laurens forced himself into his shoulders, relying on the water to cover his body. It was rather dark, so Laurens hoped Hamilton would not be-

No. That’s absurd. No sane man would inspect their friend’s body. 

Hamilton stalked toward Laurens, water rippling around him, and then-

A wave of cold water hit Laurens’ face as Hamilton splashed him. In disbelief, Laurens’s jaw hung open, water dripping from his honey blonde hair.

“Hamilton!” he scolded but the man just giggled.  _ Giggled.  _ ‘Twas a game. A grin stretched over Laurens’ face as he pushed a splash of dark water toward Hamilton. He heard spluttering behind him as the water hit its mark as he strode away, determined to not be bested by Hamilton. 

They continued their tom-foolery, chasing each other across the pond, splashing, sputtering, cursing, and  _ laughing _ . 

It was a pleasant sound, Laurens’ laugh. It was emitted from the bottom of his chest and erupted, shaking his body and making the smile on his cheeks ache. When was the last time he laughed like this? A genuine laugh? He could not remember but an inkling of Francis flashed across his mind. He shoved his back, he would not let Francis spoil his fun, again.

Laurens paused to catch his breath, not aware of Hamilton creeping up behind him, undetected and silent. 

Laurens jumped as Hamilton pounced upon him, twisting him around, his hands binding Laurens’ together so he may not splash Hamilton. 

With the instincts of a soldier, Laurens found Hamilton’s stance underneath the water too narrow, so with one foot, he slammed his heel into Hamilton’s shins which sent him doubling over.

What Laurens anticipated is Hamilton releasing his arms so he could swim away, but in reality, Hamilton held tight and maneuvered so they were grappling at each other under the water. 

Laurens felt Hamilton’s body brush his own and he fought the heat pooling down his lower abdomen. 

Hamilton resurfaced first and grabbed Laurens the minute he did too. In an attempt to break free again, Laurens felt himself pushed up against Hamilton’s body and Hamilton was, to Laurens’ horror, pushed up against a rock and could definitely feel Laurens’ bare arousal. 

Hamilton raised an eyebrow and Laurens closed his eyes, waiting to be dammed.

“Excited are we?” Hamilton rasped, quirking an eyebrow. The air stilled around them and Laurens’ innocent grin faded from his face, replaced by a hardened look of fear. 

Hamilton pressed his body against Laurens’ harder and Laurens gasped. 

If he was not mistaken, Hamilton was also aroused against Laurens. Without thinking, and purely out of the heat of his arousal Laurens rubbed himself against Hamilton, creating friction and making the smaller man’s pupils dilate. The water around them rippled from the wind.

_ Damnation! The water!  _

Laurens immediately pulled back, his body rapidly cooling and his face a mask of shock. They were in the  _ gods dammed water _ ! Where any soldier may stumble upon them or someone may see them?  _ Christ, how could he be so ignorant? _

“H-H-Hamilton!” Laurens gasped, putting more distance between them and his mind reeling. Hamilton stumbled forward away from the rock, his face confused and-and was that hurt?

“Laurens I-” Hamilton stuttered.  _ Stuttered! _ Laurens had never seen him so vulnerable with his face contorted in fear

“Was I reading this wrong?” he said quietly and Laurens stooped and stilled.

“I thought-” Hamilton shook his head and made a move to exit the waters.

“Wait!” Laurens rasped, aware of how shaken he was. Hamilton turned, his eyes sharp and brows furrowed. 

“We can still be friends, aye?” Laurens ignored his thundering heart, he knew he should just walk away, forgot about everything, and just  _ stay out of Hamilton’s way _ , but something in his heart wished to be near the fiery man. His presence drew Laurens in and-

“ _ Down there  _ it doesn’t seem like you  _ just want to be friends _ ” Hamilton shot back.

Laurens choked and strode after Hamilton, grabbing his arm and yanking him back into the water. Hamilton stepped toward Laurens so they were just a breath away, his violet eyes peering into Laurens’ blue ones with passion. 

Hamilton reached up and his fingers lightly brushed Laurens’ wet cheek. 

Laurens grabbed Hamilton’s hand swiftly, tightly holding it away from his face. His wrist was slender, almost bony, but it was soft. 

“Tis a sin” Laurens whispered and Hamilton tilted his head. He was vaguely aware that Hamilton already knew this, but saying it out loud felt like a question. A question of  _ Do you want this, with me when you could find a nice girl? _

“Then I’ll be damned in my own personal hell, as long as I am with you,” Hamilton said fiercely, lacing his fingers through Laurens’ hand. They were dexterous and calloused, but they seemed to fit perfectly. Laurens knew it was the answer to his unspoken question,  _ Yes, dear boy, I have wanted you for long enough that you are only for me.  _

Laurens knew it was wrong. He knew it would only end in pain. He knew he shouldn’t, he couldn’t put himself through this again, but  _ christ he wanted Hamilton  _ **_so bad_ ** .

Laurens angled his head down and swooped Hamilton up in a kiss. He expected it to just be a peck, a confirmation but Hamilton latched on enthusiastically, sucking on Laurens’ lips and pressing his tongue against Laurens’ like a request

Laurens gasped as he parted his lips allowing access for Hamilton’s tongue to slip into his mouth exploring and finally slipping under Laurens’ tongue making Laurens let out a breathy moan.

Hamilton rolled his bare hips against Laurens, creating friction and fusing their bodies together making Laurens more aroused and hard and extracting a groan resonating from deep in his chest, which made Hamilton’s own length twitch. 

Laurens broke apart abruptly remembering where they were, old panic seeping in

“Hamilton!” he hissed. “Not here, of all places I-”

“Ah, right, I had forgotten how exposed this is” They stood there looking at each other and Laurens wondered what they were now. Would this continue or would Hamilton deny this night ever-

“But I will have you, John Laurens. When we have some privacy, I will elicit moans greater than this night and explore every inch of your body. I swear, Sir” Laurens felt himself harden again as Hamilton smirked and pulled him out of the water onto the land above.

As the pair walked back to where the army rested, dawn approached signaling a new day, and for Laurens a new start with his Alexander. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can probably tell but I had no idea what to write for these lyrics so I improvised. It's a little bit rushed and shorter than the other chapters, but let me know what you wanna see next in the comments or tell me what u liked/disliked :)))
> 
> ALsO you can see Laurens refers to Alex as "Hamilton" until they like "sort their feelings out" or whatever, so I think it's really interesting as a writer for Laurens to refer to alex as "Hamilton" until they get involved romantically, for then he becomes "Alexander" or "Alex" didn't know if anyone would pick up on that lol :)))
> 
> I may not update as frequently for I am working on a separate project involving my own OC, so as I write that one (it's gonna be 100 chapters+ so it's longgggg) I may not be updating this as much. 
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and support! Stay safe!


	6. I'm Mr. Loverman, and I miss my lover, man. I'm Mr. Loverman, and I miss my lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laurens has been a prisoner of war for a week (or so) when Alexander Hamilton visits him, only Hamilton is to be married, and Laurens is determined to let go; however, the news of Hamilton's engagement had led Laurens down a path of dark melancholy and ill health, and Hamilton is the only one that can heal him internally and externally 
> 
> or
> 
> Really angsty hurt/sick/fix it fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a-yo yo yo yo yo what time is it? Update time! Sorry about the late update, I've been working on a huge writing project (just posted the first chapter if you like ACOTAR or TOG go check it out!) and I have had not creative energy to finish this. Please enjoy the angst and whatever this is!
> 
> (PS, THIS IS SO LONG SO STRAP IN GIRLS, GAYS, & THEYS)

**_I'm Mr. Loverman, and I miss my lover, man. I'm Mr. Loverman. Oh, and I miss my lover_ **

1780, Early June, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

For a prisoner of war, Laurens supposed it could be worse. He was confined to the state of Pennsylvania and was supplied of a small home in the countryside so close, he could see New Jersey farmland from his window. 

There were two or so guards that stood watch outside of the home, assuring him that leaving the state would result in consequences, but for the most part, Laurens isolated himself in the home. 

Compared to his life in Geneva or in South Carolina, it was minuscule, poorly furnished, and daft; however, compared to his living style in the army? Well, It was better than sleeping on the floor. 

It had only been a week or so since his capture, but letters had been flooding in from his father, General Washington, and inevitably, Alexander Hamilton. The former of the three were strictly about the state of his situation and how must they go about it--arguing for his release would be tedious and would most likely result in a trade. 

Alexander, however, well he wrote Laurens as frequently as he could, Laurens sometimes receiving more than one letter at a time, dated only a day or two apart. With letters as his only comfort, Laurens treasured each beautiful word Alexander wrote for him, bringing a sense of longing and nostalgia to be back in Washington’s office with the other aides. 

At night, Laurens would pour over Alexander’s words, drinking in every sentence from the random mishaps of the office to his eloquently hidden messages with innuendo that brought a blush to Laurens’ face, even though he was alone.

With each letter, Laurens yearned for Alexander’s gaze and touch, how he seemed to fuel heat into Laurens, his very presence comforting, yet also filled with frenzied energy that charged Laurens with adrenaline.

Laurens knew he could not think such things any longer. He knew he should not crave for Alexander’s passion-filled kisses and thirst for his roving gazes of tender love.

The things Laurens ached for was strictly reserved for Alexander’s new wife. His new, beautiful, kind, normal, rich wife Elizabeth Schuyler.  _ Now Elizabeth Hamilton _ . Laurens lamented dryly. 

He shouldn’t be expecting anything from Alexander at this point, but every time a thick letter arrived in the mail, his heart fluttered in nervous excitement. 

It wasn’t any use now as Laurens downed his cup of tea, wishing it were beer or whiskey.

_ My dearest, Laurens, _

My dearest. 

Laurens.

Laurens scanned through the lastest letter for the one-hundredth time, it being the shortest one Alexander had sent with the joyous news that the General had permitted him to travel to Philadelphia to visit him. 

Something small in him rejoiced, hope blossoming in his chest making his heart beat a little faster and blood run with more warmth, but most of him felt numb and cold. Physically and mentally, the draft was unbearable in the house. 

Laurens vaguely wondered if the rebels treated their prisoners of war this civilly.

He would wonder more, but a headache pounded at his temples.

He scanned the letter one last time, the words seeping in. One day until Alexander departed. Two days at best until his arrival. The letter was dated yesterday so-

Alexander would be arriving in less than a day.

Laurens blushed, or thought he did as his cheeks reddened and heat flushed to his face. He stood up and felt the blood rush to his head and the room tilt as wooziness melted away.

He licked his parched lips, unaware of the sweltering heat of the room and the shivers his body produced.

His Alexander was coming back to him.

**_\--- one day later ---_ **

Laurens spent the night tossing and turning, beads of sweat running down his forehead even though the draft was chilled. 

His throat was parched, but water seemed to burn down his throat. 

‘Twas the poor ventilation and outdated systems. 

He couldn’t bring himself to eat that morning, so now Laurens was seated at the molding desk, struggling to put words on paper, his cravat unusually tight and breeches rough and uncomfortable. Laurens’s hand shook as he gripped his quill tighter.

It must be the nerves. 

_ Alexander is coming as a friend. And a friend only. He’s your closest companion and most trusted confidant, there is nothing to be so troubled about.  _ It felt like Laurens was trying to convince himself more than repeating facts. 

Just as Laurens wiped a clammy hand over his sweaty brow, sharp raps came from the front door and the housekeeper, a red-faced Englishwoman which Laurens could not recall her name, hurried to the door unfastening her apron.

Laurens took a shaky breath, and like last night, as he stood up the world tilted from underneath him.

He smeared his sweaty palms on his waistcoat as the familiar piping tone entered the house.

“Please, I insist, I am fully capable of carrying my own luggage without injuring myself Missus” Laurens licked his lips, fully aware of how his heart jolted at the voice. 

“He’s in the parlor, Mister Hamilton” the housekeeper rasped, then scurrying back to the kitchen, most likely.

Laurens regained control of his breath as Alexander appeared in the doorway, his eyes bright, uniform dusty from the travel, but smile as fervent as ever. 

“Laurens” Alexander exclaimed, his voice breathy. Laurens stepped toward him, hand outstretched and Alexander grasped it firmly. To Laurens’ surprise, Alexander intertwined their fingers, just for a brief moment, a small smirk tugging at the edges of Alexander’s lips.

“How was the journey?” Laurens asked, pulling his hand away and stuffing it into his pocket, looking everywhere but Alexander’s eyes. He knew Alexander was expecting some form of affection back, but he was here  _ as a friend.  _ Nothing more than a concerned friend.

“As good as riding gets” Alexander paused for a moment and then looked up at Laurens, his eyelids hooded.

“As good as riding gets on a horse, but I supposed you could show me better” Laurens choked on his own saliva, warmth spreading up to his cheeks and watching Alexander hold back a smile. 

“I’ll show you to your room,” he said monotony, briskly turning on his heel leaving Alexander confused in the parlor. 

The upstairs was just as dreary as downstairs, the paint was peeling and there was a terrible draft that seemed to result in a cold sweat. Laurens’ clammy hands shook as he opened the bedroom door adjacent to his.

“You may settle your things in here, my room is across the hall if you require anything from me” his words were clipped and short, he kept his face neutral and void of anything that Alexander may take as a cue.

Laurens was just about to close the door when Alexander grabbed his wrist.

“Wait” Alexander’s voice softened. It was a change not many of his colleges saw, from young genius aide de camp, to just Alexander. It was something Laurens had treasured, being let into Alexander’s heart.

“I’ve missed you, Jack” Laurens fought a shudder as Alexander pulled him closer into the room. His cool, callused fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from his face. Laurens wanted to scream, break free, say  _ something _ , but yet again, Alexander Hamilton had John Laurens under his  spell, and if he admitted it aloud or not, his feelings hadn’t faded after their time apart and he was back under his spell. 

Alexander was a magnet and Laurens was a piece of metal, no matter how hard he tried, he would always be attracted to him, always go back to him. Alexander’s energy drew him in, his passion as fierce as a hurricane, enamoring Laurens and then leaving him as quickly as he came, and much like a hurricane, in pieces, but when the storm came back, he would fall for it again.

Laurens couldn’t move as Alexander pulled him in for a sweet opened mouth kiss, his lips were so soft. Laurens knew he shouldn’t. He knew it was wrong and that he can’t be doing this anymore, but Alexander’s kisses fueled him with adrenaline and lust so he kissed back just as softly.

Their lips fit perfectly. They always had.

Laurens gasped and pulled away, his sense returning, and shoved Alexander back. 

“Jack!” Alexander panted, his brows creasing. 

“What is this? I thought you would be happy to see-” 

“We can’t do this anymore Hamilton” Laurens said flatly. He watched as Alexander’s face contorted in hurt and confusion.

“Hamilton? What the hell is going on John? You’ve been so distant and pulled back in your letters and now you’re pushing  _ me away?  _ What happened?” Alexander took a deep breath, his eyes roving over Laurens’ thin figure and distressed state.

“I worried about your state, but now I’m truly concerned, dear boy” 

“You have someone else to be concerned about!” Laurens nearly growled. Alexander looked like he had been punched in the face. Laurens closed his eyes and pinched his nose. He didn’t want to do this now, not when he felt like he could faint any moment.

“Is this about Eliz-” Alexander was whispering now, but Laurens couldn’t take it? He knew it was childish and selfish, but he couldn’t hear her name out of his mouth right now. 

Laurens turned on his heel, his hands shaking, and slammed the door shut, then ripping his own door open and collapsing on his bed. Maybe months ago he would have been weeping or feeling something.

However, the only thing he felt now was so  _ weak _ . His breath was labored and his headache provided a steady drumbeat like someone had taken a hammer and was hitting him from the inside of his skull. He was sweating all over, yet it felt as though someone had opened a window during winter letting in a chill. 

And everything  _ ached _ . Material rubbing against his skin increased his discomfort, nothing seemed to soothe his aching skin. 

He would just rest here for a bit. Not too long, just until dinner.

**_\--- Hours Later ---_ **

Laurens sat up with a jolt, pain flashing down his side as he yelped. As his eyes adjusted he found himself in his bed, laying down with Alexander by his side, mouth parted in concentration, white bandages strewn across the sheets, and  _ was that a needle and thread? _

Alexander cursed as Laurens threw Alexander’s hands off his side, causing pain to splinter down his torso again.

“Hold still you fool” Alexander murmured through gritted teeth as Laurens made a move to exit the bed.

“How-” Laurens couldn’t recall how he ended up in his bed with Alexander tending to him.

Alexander rolled his eyes.

“Do you want to take a guess?” Alexander dryly said, resuming whatever he was doing. Laurens cradled his head in his head, not surprised to feel the warmth radiating from it. The last thing Laurens could remember was passing out on his bed before dinner-

“You stumbled downstairs in a haze like a drunken man, proceeded to quarrel with me about the state of your health, and continued to collapse the moment you rose from your seat” Alexander pressed the back of his hand to Laurens’ forehead. He flinched as contrast in temperature from his head to Alexander’s hand startled him.

“Just as I suspected” Alexander clicked his tongue. If he had the strength, Laurens may have jested him.

“I hauled you up here to find a raging fever and an infected wound” Alexander frowned down at Laurens’ bare side-  _ Christ he wasn’t wearing anything but his breeches _ .

“To hell with modesty, sir, I strip you and find days old bayonet wound, not cleaned or dressed property, most likely a result of your foolishness after your capture” Alexander’s eyes blazed, not in anger, but in frustration. Laurens didn’t say anything, his head already spinning as Alexander dressed the wound, clean bandages hugging it tightly.

“When can I ever be at rest knowing that you're safe and well taken care of without the knowledge that your recklessness may lead you into death?” Alexander said more softly. Laurens’ cheeks burned. He felt like he was going to pass out again.

“I can take care of myself” he managed to get out, words sticky and hard on his tongue. He must have slurred them as Alexander sighed reaching up and tracing a finger down his moist cheek.

“Can you? Every time I am away from you, you seem to feel the need to conquer death. From not dressing your wound, not tending to your health” Alexander blew out a puff of air.

“I had talked to your housekeeper and she said it would be a miracle if you managed more than a few hours sleep and more then one meal, so no, dear Jack, I can assure you that you are unable to take of yourself” Laurens blinked slowly as he pushed away from the bile from his throat.

“My lifestyle is none of your concern, I am happy with the way I am doing things and my health is  **_just fine_ ** ” Laurens snapped.

“Bullshit!” Alexander grabbed Laurens’ hand and squeezed.

“Look at you! Suffering from a violent fever with an infected bayonet wound after you failed to keep up your health! Do you want me to recount the other times we have found ourselves in a similar situation?” His voice was low, not raised or yelling but a threatening low that made Laurens want to be ashamed.

Flashbacks of Brandywine, Germantown, the Battle of Monmouth, the duel between him and Lee, and countless other skirmishes where Laurens walked off the battlefield with unattended  wounds that lead to illness and Alexander healing him. Always physically, but emotionally too.

Yet Laurens couldn’t do that to Alexander, strung him along and let him believe that it was Alexander’s responsibility to worry about him and always look out for him. That was for Eliza. So instead of placing a kiss on his pursed lips like he would have done in Vally Forge Laurens retorted

“Dying for my country would be a most honorable death, you of all people know that,” Laurens said stiffly and watched light blaze in Alexander’s violet eyes.

“Then what happens if you die?” The question filled the thick air. Laurens didn’t have an answer.

“What happens if you are fatally wounded and die of your injuries? What if you fall ill because of your lack of self-preservation and awareness of your health” Alexander hissed.

“That’s right, you don’t know. You haven’t thought about it-”

“My fortune would be passed onto my wife, daughter, and siblings, and the world would move on. My death shouldn’t be monumental I am just-” Alexander cut him off.

“ _ Move on? _ You are an  _ idiot couché _ ! You know I would not move on. You know how much your death would affect me” Laurens did know. He remembered the tears Alexander had shed in anger after he attempted to take his life, the rifle hot in his hands, and Alexander’s passionate words.

_ “I would never forgive myself if you died. Your death would make life unbearable and colorless, a world without you Jack is a fruitless world of cruelty. Leaving me in this cold, unforgiving Earth would be worse than death itself. I would not know what to do.” _

“The worst part” Alexander went on his lips moving faster than Laurens could comprehend. 

“Is that I wouldn’t know. You would die and news of your death wouldn’t reach me until I am counting casualties, or sorting through Washington’s letters. I could find out just by your name on a list. No one would come and break it to me slowly, no one would give me your uniform and remaining belongings. I would have to live in ignorance and then grieve your death possibly weeks after it happened,  _ so don’t tell me your importance to our cause. _ ” Laurens sucked a breath in, almost too aware of the candlelight burning way too brightly. He winced as a fresh wave of chills wracked his body. 

Alexander took notice and dropped his hand, almost purple from squeezing it so hard. He leaned in close, so their foreheads touched and breath mingled. He smelled like fresh parchment and dust. 

Laurens closed his eyes as Alexander leaned up and lightly kissed him. He let himself be lost in the moment, just Alexander’s chapped lips on his, but still plush. Alexander’s kisses always gave him adrenaline pumping through his veins. It was like a drug--no matter how hard you tried to quit, it always followed you, begging you for more.

Laurens broke away softly this time.

“We-W-We cannot do this any longer, Alex” his voice rough and shaky. The pet name slipped out too, it was not the best time for terms of endearment.

Alexander frowned.

“You are to be married. To a  _ woman _ ” Laurens whispered. 

“You love her, and she loves you. I will not tarnish a beautiful marriage” it hurt him to say it out loud. He felt something in his chest fracturing, like glass slowly cracking and fall apart. 

“I love  _ you _ ” Alexander kissed Laurens’ nose.

“Sodomy is one crime, but cheating is another sin I will not help you commit” Alexander tilted his head.

“You cheat, so why can’t I join you? I once told you that if you were to go to hell, I would want to be right there beside you” Laurens sighed. He was young and foolish and in love. 

“Eliza doesn’t deserve to be cheated on, I perceive her sweet and good, like all wives should be, but she isn’t as dull or dense, she can paint a picture for herself, and that kind of hurt is something she never should feel!”

“What if I’m cheating on you with her? It makes no difference. Matrimony will not change any feelings or proclamations I have harbored toward you. Eliza is a good girl, I won her with sweet words and poems, but you I have only raw love. Eliza could never satisfy as you do, Jack” Laurens knew he should pull away, convince Alexander he was only here as a friend and no more, but his heart skipped giddily at what Alexander had just said. 

“Don’t say that” He breathed, guilt swallowing him. 

“You cannot love her and me at the same time, just wait and see, your feelings will fade and we will remain distant friends” Laurens cursed his weak body as the battle against his emotions was lost and years started welling in his eyes. One escaped and fell down his hot cheeks and collected at his chin. He wasn’t angry, or sad. Just, bittersweet. 

“I would marry you,” Alexander says bluntly. 

“I would take you as my wedded husband if it were allowed. I would have done it a long time ago.” Alexander was now stroking his cheek. Laurens leaned into it, savoring the touch and security.  _ Christ, this man would never cease.  _ Laurens knew his feelings would never fade, he knew that the bond they shared was beyond love and affection, it ran deeper than that. 

Love was a frugal thing, always being handed out to those who were supposed to not feel what they felt.

“‘Tis a dangerous thing to say” Laurens replied numbly, stunned by the raw truth. His thoughts were already muddled by the fever and he could not bring himself to say the thousands of words that screamed in his mind.

“I would walk to the ends of the earth for you, my love is stronger than most married couples, I desire you as my husband, if I could” Laurens couldn’t take it any longer. 

Every magnified emotion had led up to this moment. His poor conflicted heart was being stretched too thin as his duty and heart battle for dominance. 

So he opened the floodgates and let out a strangled sob. He meant to only let a tear or more out, but the sobs kept coming, they forced his headache to become thunderous now as he desperately wiped away the tears. 

In the blur of his emotion, Alexander was now in bed with him, strong arms wrapped around his shaking figure, whispering sweet nothings into his ear, kissing his forehead, and making him feel-

Well, whatever feeling it was when someone knew they shouldn’t be doing something, the feeling of tremendous guilt afterward, but in the moment only feeling raw love and certainty. 

All throughout the night, Alexander sat by Laurens’ side, wiping his brow with a cold cloth, tending to his wounds (that had finally started to clot). In his fever’s delusional delirium, he was only certain of one thing as the mirages came and went, nightmares plagued his dreams: His Alexander was here with him, taking care of him, staying with him. 

As his fever broke, well into the next night, he drew himself closer to Alexander’s dozing  figure that he convinced in delirium to join him in bed. Their legs were intertwined and Alexander was still holding Laurens’ hand. 

Laurens knew that it was only a matter of time before Alexander’s marriage.

It was only a matter of time until he had to give Alexander up completely. 

It was only a matter of time until nothing held him back from his recklessness and bloodlust.

It was only a matter of time until Laurens had to watch Alexander flourish and thrive, building their new nation with his wife and children behind him.

But, maybe, just for now, Laurens could have Alexander for just this moment. For just this moment, he would be Alexander’s and Alexander would be his. 

“I do, dear boy, I desire to marry you as well and take thee as my wedded husband” Laurens whispered into Alexander’s ear.

He swore Alexander smiled as Laurens kissed his lover’s temple.

Laurens knew he would always be Alexander’s. He knew Alexander would never let go and try to hang on as long as possible. He knew his feelings for Alexander would never change, but with time grew stronger and more fond, but he knew, because of how much he loved this man, he had to let him go. 

Tomorrow there’ll be more of us. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's long. I warned ya :))))) 
> 
> Anyway, this took me like a month to finish bc I had started it just before chapter 5 and just like never finished it, so if you can tell I finished it on a Monday night at 10:45 running on like no sleep, so moral of the story: the ending is crappy!
> 
> Historical inaccuracies:  
> Laurens got captured in May 1780 and Ham didn't get engaged until Winter 1780 which is roughly 7 months apart, sorry like I said I am sleep deprived and forgot what month I set this in 
> 
> Sources:  
> https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Hamilton/01-02-02-0734  
> A lot of other fics honestly, I use the really historically accurate ones to help me figure out timelines and stuff so shoutout to @CiceroProFacto @peblezq @clear_as_starlight_ @spots_of_violet @Ember3ye  
> Follow me on Tumblr! @crazychloe08


	7. I've shattered now, I'm spilling out, Upon this linoleum ground. I'm reeling in my brain again, Before it can get back to you. Oh what am I supposed to do without you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Combahee River, South Carolina, August 27, 1782

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Thank you for being so patient as I took some time off and then took a long time to write this!

**_I've shattered now, I'm spilling out, Upon this linoleum ground. I'm reeling in my brain again, Before it can get back to you. Oh what am I supposed to do without you?_ **

Laurens rolled his shoulder back, straightening his spine as he felt battle loom over them. Any soldier in the continental army had developed this sixth sense, a sense that death and battle approached, but it never told when or where. 

It would be signs like the air tensing, or a certain rustling in the bushes, but nevertheless, Laurens could feel his men tensing also, preparing for a fight, and possibly death. 

He fought back a shudder as he carded a weak hand through his hair. 

Many of his men had asked him to stay behind, for he was still recovering from illness,  _ Tadeusz could handle this _ ! But Laurens had insisted he leave his sick bed, as another day in comfort and in peace made his nerves jingle, testing his patience to the frays and making him jittery and on edge.

It hadn’t been the same since he came back from France.

Some might suppose it would be the lack of action, they were correct, but the thirst for blood was a result of a needed distraction and a no longer need to hold himself back. 

It would have only been another day or so until he was fully recovered from the illness, a little skirmish wasn’t going to hurt him. Besides, when had received word that Gist was marching troops to Combahee River, after that British scum Leslie raided plantations, Laurens was already starved of action and thirsty for blood.

_ “Your bloodlust will lead you recklessly one day, my dear boy, and you will corner yourself into a situation you cannot fight your way out. Always hungry for glory”  _ An auburn with clear, violet eyes drifted into his memory. Dark nights spent scratching away with quills on paper until dawn, and the aftermath of battle tending to each other’s wounds.

Laurens would always be endearingly chided for his reckless endangerment of his life in some feat to save others or earn glory.

In those times he had promised to be more careful, and when in the hazy grasp of bloodlust, reminded himself what awaited him back at camp, but now, he had nothing more to lose, so throwing himself into every skirmish and battle was a grateful distraction.

He had been dreaming of something like this for months from his sickbed, and Greene reluctantly gave in and let him join the fight. 

The august air was thick and heavy with humidity, most soldiers from the north wiped their brow with sweat, but Laurens was native to these South Carolina lands, and the heat was not of abnormalcy. Laurens took a deep breath of air, grateful to be back on American soil, even if he hadn’t been to France in more than a year, the stench of a corrupted monarchy and egotistical aristocrats left him exhausted of the professionalism. 

He had been grateful to return to his military family as General Washington’s aide de camp. 

Even though A-

Laurens took another deep breath, a headache already producing a steady drumbeat at his temples. 

So much had happened in the last two years. 

He was a fool to believe that everything would stay the same. 

“General Gist!” He approached the Major, his steps brisk and quick, stifling the low murmurs in his head. Gist turned, his face focused and hard, the face of a General entering battle. 

Yorktown flashes across his mind. He shoved it back with all his will.  _ Not now, not now, not now,  _ **_please_ ** . 

“Lieutenant-Colonel!” Gist greeted, his face lighting up slightly. They firmly shook hands as Laurens glanced around the busy war camp. It bustled with soldiers preparing for battle: scurrying around with excitement and purpose, reloading guns, strapping on uniforms, and distractedly writing last-minute letters for their wives and sisters. 

“We were glad to receive word of your speedy betterment from illness, your talents on the battlefield may be crucial this day”

Laurens nodded.

“Grateful to be back, sir, I am at your disposal” he saluted. An officer at Gist’s side whispered something to him and Gist smiled at Laurens, or to the extent the serious man could smile.

“Colonel Laurens, your men are itching for a fight, while you're here you can be beside them, yes?” Laurens nodded again.

“We will be with light infantry and attacking at daybreak tomorrow” Then Gist turned, a weary look on his face. A look George Washington used to wear late nights in Valley Forge, looking over the Aides as they bent over their papers, murmuring phrases and the occasional jest to maintain spirit. 

It was no use to wish for the past, for it was a dangerous thing, a dangerous thing to fall into the deep pit of lost time. 

Swallowing, Laurens headed off into his side of the camp, where his battalion was parked, dark-skinned men milling about with rowdy jokes, carrying their weapons. 

“Laurens!” A familiar voice shouted out to him. A smile ghosted upon Laurens’ lips.

“Tadeusz!” Laurens greeted as the man hurried toward him, his face a mask of surprise and confusion. They collided and shook hands heartily.

“What are you doing here Colonel? I thought I told you to stay away from this fight in your condition” Laurens felt his second surveying him, taking in his state and eyeing his mannerisms. 

He didn’t admit it, but Tadeusz had become fairly close to Laurens, making sure he ate at the proper times and slept for more than a few hours a day. 

However, Laurens didn’t let him get too close. He had made that mistake long ago and was still paying the consequences.

“I’m sure you’re not my mother, as you are acting like a hen, squawking after he chicks” Laurens snorted as the other man raised an eyebrow.

“Come on” Tadeusz loosely saluted. “You’re men are waiting for you” 

\--------------

A year of disappointments would be made up with some stolen battlefield glory now. Laurens was sure of it as the British arrived at Combahee River first, and Gist’s forces arrived sometime around dusk.

He sat, checking his rifles, helping out in any way he could, just to avoid sitting still. Before battle, having to sit still had always been torture for Laurens. 

It was a restless itch that started jangling his nerves, starting with his leg shaking anxiously and usually ending in a near-death experience.

_“You always seem to cheat death by a few inches, stop that!”_ _The laughing voice with violet eyes would say while typing a tight bandage around his injury or forcing water down his throat._

He needed a command, something to put his mind into his old friend, bloodlust. 

To prove that he was not just a  _ worthless sodomite _ . 

He knew his companions knew of his impulsive behavior on the battlefield and rolled their eyes as he tried to seek glory.

It was different now. Battle was a distraction instead of an ambition. It was addictive to slip into your old habits.

Laurens used to fight the darkness, but now he embraced it.

He still fought for his country and the freedom she deserved, he still threw himself into the fight for his name to be ushered at campfires of his miraculous feats and glory that ended in sacrificial death, but now it was also for escapism. To let himself loose, unhinged as he took town man after man, with an excuse for the manic gleam in his eye. 

“General” Laurens saluted as Gist turned toward him, candlelight burning fiercely as the man hunched over a map. 

“Colonel Laurens, what do you require?” Gist sighed, not of expiration, but the well known deep breath of exhaustion. Laurens knew that breath very well. 

“As your most obedient servant, as I ask for a command to attack, daybreak approaches most quickly and I would hope to find a place in the glory we shall steal in a few hours time” Gist looked over the map again.

“I appreciate yourself at my disposal, in fact, I need someone to lead some fifty troops I will detach, I was going to have Captain McKennan lead them, but as you are very available…?” Laurens almost jumped for joy. 

“Many thanks, General, I will further await instruction, your need for me is deeply gratifying to my humble persons, for as you know I haven’t seen a lick of action these past months” Gist smiled at him.

“I hope you seek whatever awaits you, Colonel, dismissed”

Laurens steps were a bit lighter as he made his way back to his tent. He would be out there, fighting alongside fifty troops at his disposal, weapon in his hand. 

With this opportunity, they will tell the story of tonight. Laurens would make sure of it.

\--------------

August 27, 1782

Chehaw Neck, 3:00 AM

They proceeded to Chehaw Neck before the sun rose. Darkness was their invisibility cloak as they crept past plantation after plantation, the air still as soldiers slipped through the land, the only sound was the rustling of the wind or the clink of weapons against uniform. 

Laurens felt his vision clear, his focus sharpened and his mind became alert. It was as if battle awakened his slumbering senses and his body could feel the enemy on the battlefield. It was exhilarating and as Laurens narrowed his eyes, everything before washed away, and the only thing that mattered now, was this battle. 

They approached the north bank of the river, coolness from the water rippling off and sending a chill down Laurens’ spine. He welcomed it, letting it rejuvenate him. 

Scouts ahead were starting to return, their faces wild as they raced toward him. 

“Colonel Laurens” One saluted. A young wiry boy with sandy hair that could be mistaken as ginger stood tall before him, his face set like stone.

“Report?”

“One hundred-fifty redcoats positioned along the road, hidden under a clump of underbrush, sir, practically waiting to attack if we marched that way” Laurens cursed, biting his lip. 

“Any word from Gist?” 

“No Sir, but the British seem to have already boarded their ships, General Gist’s lookouts didn’t depart until later this morning Sir, but we have already sent men back to him for cavalry”

Laurens knew he had two options. Wait for Gist, only two miles away, most likely already heading down with reinforcements, or assault and overturn the battle when Gist’s calvary men arrive.

He looked back toward the men, their eyes blinking up at him, waiting for him to order something. 

He felt his nerves jitter. 

A sparkling smile and violet eyes flashed across his mind.

He couldn’t wait any longer.

“Men!” He called, his voice strong and unwavering. “You have waited long enough for the glory we shall take on this early morn” 

\--------------

He had ordered an immediate assault. 

Soldiers charged the redcoats, their jackets flying in the soft wind, blending into the blanket of darkness, a stark contrast to the flaming redcoats, a stain against the sky. 

The roar of battle quieted in Laurens’ ears as his blood thrummed. He rode upon his mare, her sleek body obeying his every command with grace as he tore town men. 

Bloodlust sang throughout his body as he waded through bodies, firing his musket and swiping with his bayonet.

He was a hurricane of death. From the outside, he caused chaos, destruction, and death, but in the eye of the hurricane there was quiet, a peace Laurens’ could never put his finger on. 

“They’re opening fire!” a deep voice bellowed from somewhere along the river. 

Laurens grit his teeth as he watched men fall from their horses. 

He would have glory. He would be remembered.  _ He was not a worthless sodomite _

“Laurens! Watch out!” someone yelled at him. His heart hammered against his chest as he turned to see who called out to him. His sleek, soldier’s instincts screamed at him to duck, but his cruel mind pulled him down into the darkness.

_ “Laurens! Watch out!” Alexander called as Laurens ducked a mean punch. The alcohol intoxicated his thoughts, making him slur his words, but it did not affect his instincts in a fight.  _

_ The drunken bastards had been campaigning against negros fighting in the war.  _

_ Naturally, Laurens stepped in, exchanging a few words he couldn’t remember, moments after, but he did remember swinging first.  _

_ Alexander was at his back, fighting the brute’s companion with fever, the smaller man like a bullet, small but destructive.  _

_ Laurens’s lip was split, the wind was knocked out of him and he was pretty sure he was bleeding from a scratch at his temple, but his opponent looked worse.  _

_ “What in God’s name is happening?” The smooth voice of a Frenchman called out, stepping in from the cold and into the tavern.  _

_ Laurens felt himself get tackled by a large shape and restrained. _

_ “Let me go!” he strained against the strong arms of the Maquis. “I can take him!” Lafayette looked down at Laurens, his eyes conveying the message. _

_ “Yes, but he can’t take you anymore and he’ll be dead,” he said pointedly. Laurens glanced over as the bastard stumbled out of the tavern, tripping over himself, his buddy barely standing.  _

_ When he craned his neck he saw Alexander being held back by Lafayette’s companion. Wait, was that Meade? _

_ “For God’s sake Hammie, it’s over!” Meade was crying over Alexander’s protests. It was comical. Laurens cracked a smile, blood dribbling down his chin.  _

_ When Lafayette was satisfied Laurens wasn’t going to go kill the man, he released him, as did Meade.  _

_ When Laurens turned to Alexander, his auburn hair was askew, his eyes were wild and his uniform was hanging off his body.  _

_ Yet, he was beautiful.  _

_ Alexander’s eyes roved over Laurens’ body, and with a slight jerk of a head, it sent heat flushing down Laurens’ body. _

_ The head movement was so slight, most would perceive it as a head tilt to get a better view of his surroundings, but Laurens knew better. He knew that look.  _

_ It was always directed at him. Sometimes from across the room during meetings or other times after a particularly risky mission, but it always ended up with Laurens pushed against the wall and Alexander’s lips on his.  _

_ “I’ve got him Lafayette, I’ll take him back to headquarters and get this fool all patched up” Alexander winked and wiped blood off of his chin as Lafayette snorted. _

_ “I do not know who is more reckless mes amis, you or Laurens. Never a dull moment, jamais un moment ennuyeux” Lafayette rolled his eyes as he took a long glup of his drink. _

_ “C’mon you” Alexander grabbed Laurens, half dragging him out the door as pain caught up to Laurens, his lip now throbbing.  _

_ As they walked back to the encampment, Alexander’s fingertips brushed Laurens, ending electricity up his body.  _

_ “Thank you for sticking up for me” Laurens finally said, his voice a rasp. They reached headquarters, on the far side of the building where no one went. It faced the desolate wood. Alexander stopped walking and turned behind him as if to check that Laurens wasn’t talking to someone behind him. _

_ Tentatively, Alexander raised a hand and cupped Laurens's cheek. Laurens leaned into it.  _

_ It was only for a moment before Alexander shoved Laurens against the building, latching his lips onto Laurens’ _

_ He felt completely undone as they desperately grappled at each other, each movement sending electrifying jolts down his body.  _

_ Everything else in the world turned to a blur as Alexander sucked on Laurens’ jaw, urgently fusing their hips together. Sensing what he wanted, Laurens shoved a knee up so that Alexander could grind against something.  _

_ He felt Alexander’s hardness grind into his leg which made him all the more aroused.  _

_ “Please” Laurens keened, bucking his hips up as Alexander nibbled on his throat. Alexander looked up at him, his pupils huge and blown with lust. _

_Alexander frowned and stood up_ _straight._

_ “I can’t, my dear” Laurens furrowed his eyebrows. _

_ “Alexander?” _

_ “You’re not here, I’m not here. This isn’t real” Laurens gaped as the thickly wooded trees faded into sand, tents morphed into soldiers and the building he was pressed against became his faithful mare _ . 

The warped memory faded away, just soldier's instincts taking over, ducking. 

Laurens felt a surge of relief pass him as he seemed to duck whatever incoming danger barreled toward him. 

He reached for his rifle when the world tilted sideways.  _ No _ , he pleaded,  _ Not another flashback _ .

He awaited the spiraling darkness, but the ground came crashing toward his face. 

_ What in God’s name was going on? _ Then, like a gunshot, it hit him. 

His horse has been shot. His faithful girl. 

She bucked from the floor as he tried shimming out from under her. When he ducked, the warning must not have been for him to take cover, but for him to  _ move _ . 

He knew she was dead when she finally stilled, her body still warm. 

He cursed himself. If the man warning him didn’t send him into the flashback, or if he had been stronger and fought it sooner, he would not be lying on the ground, under a rapidly cooling corpse of a horse, vulnerable to any-

Laurens felt his body go numb. It was only for a fraction of a second and then raw pain washed over him. 

He roared as a fresh wave of new pain swept over him. He felt his heart speed up again, his breathing short as panic threatened to secede him.

No. He couldn’t panic. He had to locate the wound. 

Laurens lay in a position where his legs were trapped under his horse, but his hands and torso were free, a cruel fate, for the weight of his fine horse pinned him so he couldn’t break free.

That eliminated a possible injury to anything below the torso. His hand traveled up his body, past his ribcage, chest, collarbone and-

Pain reverberated through his body, sending him convulsing on the muddy ground. \

His neck. He had been shot in his gods-damned  _ neck _ . 

No soldier survived a wound like this. 

His breathing became rapid as he fell into panic. Red lined his vision as he desperately tried to pull himself from under his horse. 

It was almost comical. Comical how he begged for a glorious death on the battlefield, but when It came time, Laurens became desperate for another breath, another day, another  _ hour, please not now.  _

Laurens could already see it.  _ Lieutenant-Colonel John Laurens, dead by a stray bullet because he could not keep his own demons at bay. What does his military family think of him? How proud must his father be? _

Darkness washed over his vision as he felt the blood seeping through his clothes. It stained his skin as he tried to stem the flow.

He still had so much time. He was supposed to emancipate his father’s slaves. He was supposed to-

Laurens drew a blank. There had never been an “after” the war. He had always known he’d die on the battlefield. 

Yet, something inside him desperately clung to life. 

But what was left for him?

_ Abolition _ . He knew the long road to abolishing slavery would go beyond his time on Earth, even if he lived to be an old man.

_ To see the end of the war _ . And then what? Laurens despised politics. The poisonous manipulation, lies, and deceit. He knew Alexander would take his place in the government, but was that what Laurens would do?

_ Your family.  _ Martha was dead. His daughter was in England, taken care of by her mother’s side of the family. Frances would be better without him. He was a sorry excuse for a father, living or dead. He hadn’t spoken to his siblings in years and his father- Well his father loved him in a way that hurt Laurens. 

_ Alexander. Alexander waits for you.  _ No. No. No. No. He ended it long ago. Why is he still stuck in the past? He was married, happily married, and in  _ love _ . Even with an infant. Something Laurens would never be able to gift him. 

Laurens choked back a sob.  _ Gods, Alexander.  _ He would be devastated. 

There was so much to say to him, so much to-

There wasn’t though. They had said everything they wanted to. Laurens still had his regrets, but Alexander knew. He always did. 

The world blurred as the pain kept Laurens in its grip. The sounds of gunshots and cries of men faded away as the only sound was the spratic thumping of his heartbeat. 

He wasn’t ready to die. Not like this. And he would admit it, he was scared.

He had been ready to die at Yorktown. Giving his life to the surrendering of the British in a heroic way. 

But he survived. He survived physically. 

_ “Don’t you dare, John Laurens. Never leave me you fool”  _ Alexander had said, the day as he lay on the floor of the storage tent, sobbing, a fired gun inches away, still hot. 

He had promised. Promised to never pull something like that again. 

_ I’m sorry, dear boy.  _ Laurens thought as his vision wavered.  _ I’m sorry for everything _ . 

Laurens took a shaky breath, interrupted by blood being spat out of his mouth. The blood flooding from his neck wasn’t clotting. 

He rolled over as much as he could so he faced the sky as dawn approached. The grass was wet and dewy beneath him. The air was warm and moist as the twinkling stars faded and the sun painted streaks of blue, purple, pink, and yellow across the sky. 

“I may not live to see our glory” Laurens murmured, his head pounding. 

“But I will gladly join the fight,” a sob rose from his chest as he looked over his life, his memories. So much bad, so much death and blood, but there was also some light, like the moments he and Lafayette laughed until they cried, or George Washington’s face as the British surrendered, and the way Alexander’s face lit up like a candle in a darkened room. 

So he remembered. He remembered and remember and remembered. Every stolen moment between him and Alexander, every chaste kiss, and every passion filled moment. He remembered the fear of discovery and elation of his love. 

He also remembered Martha. The way he dark waves frizzed around her head creating a halo, the way she gave him soft smiles and would smooth his hair back. The way he used to lay in her lap as she listened to him rant. The way her eyes seemed to be as bright as stars when she smiled. The way she accepted him for who he was, even though it hurt her more than anyone. 

“And when our children tell our story” he would be remembered. He may have not died a glorious death, but rather a shameful one due to a stray bullet and sheer recklessness; nevertheless, he knew he would be remembered. 

“They’ll tell the story of…” Their anthem. Lafayette, Alexander, and him singing the song off-tune, and drunk celebrating. The way they would murmur it before battle. 

He felt like he was falling. 

Was this how Jemmy felt?

He closed his eyes, the last thing he would see would be the rising sun as she brought a new day. 

“Tonight” he whispered. 

He felt himself slipping away, like sweaty hands holding on by a thread. 

_ Take your time, Alexander, I’ll see you on the other side _ . 

The last thing he thought as he drifted into eternal darkness was Alexander and his face, his smile, his eyes, the way he talked and the way his passion pulled Laurens in. 

He smiled, the image of Alexander’s lips on his as his consciousness drifted away and he became one with the darkness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this may be one of my longest oneshots in this series mmmmmm. 
> 
> Okay so here are my thoughts: I never intended to write Laurens' death (for my mental stability and yours) but after writing Hamilton's death (a oneshot I posted go check it out) I realized I kinda needed to write it. It's such a big topic to tackle and I'm pretty sure I did the most research for this one so I could get everything correct, I scanned letters, timelines, etc to make this as correct down to the battle tactics and dates. 
> 
> As I wrote it, it just kept getting bigger and longer, and I didn't want it to be a quick write, but something that was well written and thought out, idk because it was really hard for me to get into's Laurens' head for his last thoughts. For A.Ham I knew that he didn't want to go and wanted to keep fighting to live and stuff, but with Laurens he lowkey was very suicidal, but still had a lot of untied up ends. I tried not to ignore his PTSD and depession, so I tired to tie in his huge role in Yorktown and stuff. LOL, I did my best fam, I definitely have room to improve 
> 
> This was my most historical accurate fic so here are my sources:  
> https://ltcol-laurens.tumblr.com/post/180567527886/timeline#:~:text=John%20Laurens%20Timeline,-28th%20October%201754&text=21st%20July%201771%3A%20Henry%2C%20John,until%20continuing%20to%20New%20York.&text=9th%20October%201771%3A%20Laurenses%20reach%20Falmouth%2C%20Cornwall%2C%20England.&text=7th%20August%201774%20John%20and,to%20visit%20Henry%20in%20London.
> 
> French Translation:  
> Jamais un moment ennuyeux = Never a dull moment 
> 
> I'm on tumblr! Follow me for updates on my fics @crazychloe08!
> 
> I'm also looking for a beta reader! Hit me up if you're interested!
> 
> I tried my best with this so comment for things you liked and what I can improve on!
> 
> (p.s, I'm planning for next update to be first chapter in a.ham's pov when he gets the news j.laurens died and the last chapter is going to be a special surprise yay)


	8. I’m Mr. Loverman. And I miss my lover, man. I’m Mr. Loverman. Oh, and I miss my lover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John Laurens is dead and buried in South Carolina, and Alexander Hamilton is finishing his law studies and social climbing in New York city when he receives the news. 
> 
> AKA angst and alexander just numbing himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> second, to last chapter here we go!  
> Apologizing in advance for any tears/heartbreak/feelings etc

**_I'm Mr. Loverman, and I miss my lover, man. I'm Mr. Loverman, oh, and I miss my lover (Mr. Loverman)_ **

New York City, 1782

The cries of a baby echoed from some far-away room in the house as Alexander Hamilton furiously scribbled on a piece of parchment. His hand was cramped and his back would surely be sore from being hunched over for so long. The candlelight flickered even though no wind swept through his office. 

Alexander stopped and set down his quill to twist and turn his fingers in a way that they popped and cracked. 

Nights like these reminded him of the sleepless nights as an aide de camp, working until the early hours of the morn in his tent, only one dim candle for light. 

Alexander looked over and expected to see Laurens bent over some essay beside him, softly murmuring with his blond waves framing his face, but he was alone in his study, his only company the stacks of half-written letters and copies of documents.

“Alexander?” the door opened and Alexander turned as Eliza stepped in, carefully avoiding the loose paper scattered on the floor. The dark light illuminated her creamy skin and sweeping strands of soft, black hair escaping her updo.

Balanced on the hip of her pale blue gown was a gurgling toddler with bright inquisitive eyes and showing signs of thin curls on his head. 

“How’s our future leader?” he cooed standing up and stretching his aching muscles and taking Phillip from his mother’s arms. He was a solid child and clung onto Alexander’s lapels while making soft noises. Alexander pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head and inhaled the fresh scent of soap. 

Eliza looked over him with something soft in her eyes as he came over and pecked his cheek. 

“Nice and clean and ready for bed is he?” she tickled Phillip’s tummy as he gave his mother a bright smile.

“And he missed his father at dinner? Didn’t he?” she said, still in her baby voice but more sharply. Alexander signed glancing over at the papers strewn across his desk.

“I’ve been busy catching up on my studies, love,” he said almost defensively. 

“Will you be joining me for bed?” she asked simply. Alexander pressed his lips together in a thin line and passed Phillip back with Eliza. He held onto Alexander and fussed in his mother’s arms, evidently reaching for his father.

“Perhaps” he answered. Eliza nodded and kissed his cheek again bidding him a good night. 

He didn’t need any catching up on his law studies. He was way beyond what they were teaching and most likely lessons ahead, but his restless mind seemed to be unsatisfied as he scourged up papers to write. 

Nights like these he could never sleep. Only one thing could put his mind to ease during these times. His Laurens would sneak up from behind him and silently read whatever he was writing, hand on his shoulder and hair brushing his chin. 

He would turn Alexander around and press butterfly kisses to his jawline, slowly leading him to their cot. Alexander would protest, but his Laurens was as stubborn as he. Laurens would capture his lips, letting him drown in euphoria and letting the rest of the world melt away and drowning in John’s scent of wet oak, coffee, and honey. 

Alexander always thought home was a place, but in the years away from Laurens he realized home had become a person, and how home was far away in South Carolina. 

Alexander sunk back down into his chair, rubbing a hand down his face and causing his glasses to clatter off the bridge of his nose. He tried picking his quill back up but his mind couldn’t seem to focus. 

It kept wandering back to the same person with sharp blue eyes that sparkled when he was talking about something he was passionate about, the same person with soft blond waves Alexander could card his fingers through, the same person that truly understood Alexander and knew him for what he was, and loved him all the more for it.

Alexander pushed his half-finished papers to the side as he reached down and opened his letterbox. 

He prided in the organization of his papers. Even though he was a chaotic man, he kept his letters and papers orderly and neat for any further reference. 

For his letters, he kept almost all of them, filing them away in alphabetical order of the sender. 

His fingers skimmed past the H section, past the J section, and finally halted when he got to L. 

This section was the thickest, the first letter dating all the way back to 1776. The most recent letters were a page or less long, these days Laurens never wrote the eloquent letters declaring his feelings or letters full of innuendo that would make the recipient blush. No, he would write strictly of business and maybe a sentence or small mention of his faring.

It frustrated Alexander deeply, but he still had the letters prior to 1778 when they started coming less frequently. 

During their time together, one would not expect many letters to be exchanged, but on the contrary, they would write each other almost daily, handing off secret words of adoration when they couldn’t have a moment alone together.

They were letters only meant for Alexander’s eyes. Words meant for only Alexander. 

And in this moment, they were his only comfort. 

Nights like these Alexander would pour over words of the past, reliving the love that once was requited, that was once there. Reliving a time where it was just him and his Laurens. When he would have walked to the ends of the earth for him. 

Alexander had a choice. Laurens or his career. To run away and spend the rest of their lives together, or--

It didn’t matter now. Laurens chose for him. Laurens chose Alexander’s career when he sailed away to France, coming back colder and distant. He chose when he ran away with South Carolina. He chose when he didn’t come to Alexander’s wedding.

Alexander would be eternally grateful that Laurens let him have his career and social status, something he knew meant everything to Alexander, but losing his Laurens in the process was too big of a sacrifice. 

“Alexander?” Alexander jumped, crinkling the papers in front of him and stuffing them in his desk. He blearily looked up as Eliza quietly came in, her blush dress sending papers skittering. 

“Did you have breakfast?” she asked, bending down to kiss the top of his head. He looked at her and then the window in confusion. 

Rays of first light started to shine through the pane, creating a glow through the room. He hadn’t noticed the sun come up. 

He had been reading the letters all night. 

Eliza cupped his face, her delicate hands warming his cheek. 

“Come and eat, Phillip will be wondering where his Father is all these nights” Alexander closed his eyes leaning into her touch, laying his hand over Eliza’s, and kissing her palm. 

“You, my dear, are the best of wives and best of women” Eliza gave him a soft smile as he rose to her feet and followed her into the dining room where Phillip fussed at the table. 

Alexander didn’t think he was hungry, but when the scent of fresh toast and milk hit his nose, his stomach growled impatiently. 

“Sit down!” Eliza implored him as he made his way to grab the toast and get back to his study. 

“I can’t, my love, so much to do, so little time” Eliza crossed her arms as Alexander retreated back into his dark study, leaving the light and rays of sunshine behind him. 

“Phillip is always asking where his father is and why he isn’t around” Eliza approached Alexander as he dipped his quill in an inkpot. 

“I will teach him when the time comes” His words were clipped, exhausted. He did feel guilty about not spending time with Phillip, but there was just  _ so much work to do _ . 

Eliza signed in resignation and then

“A letter arrived for you from South Carolina” Alexander’s head snapped up. That got his attention. His gaze zeroed into a white envelope Eliza grasped between her crossed arms. 

It was from John. Alexander’s heart sped up, excitement and suspense filling his sleep-deprived body. 

“It’s from John Laurens, thank you”

Eliza paused. “No it’s from Henry Laurens, his father” Alexander pondered this for a moment. What business could Henry Laurens possibly have with him? The only times they corresponded was when Alexander took over Washington’s correspondences.

“Will you read it to me?” Eliza’s face jumped into a surprised expression for just a moment. Usually, when a letter from Laurens arrived, Alexander would lock himself in his office and drink in all the words in private. 

Eliza’s gaze softened as she opened the letter. 

“ _ Mr. Hamilton, I am very sorrowed to have to write of this terrible news to you. On Tuesday, the 27th my son, Lieutenant-Colonel John Laurens was killed in a gunfight against British troops in South Carolina. _ ” Alexander’s heart dropped. Were his ears failing him? The world seemed to spin as Eliza continued on.

_ “These troops had not yet received word from Yorktown that the war was over. He's buried here until his family can send for his remains.”  _ No. No. No. No. No. No. 

_ “I have personally written to you as I know how close my son was to you. He spoke very highly of you and I hope you accept my condolences for your loss of the most devoted soldier, son and fri-” _ Eliza cut herself off as Alexander dropped his piece of toast, upsetting the inkpot and spilling the dark ink all over his papers. He didn’t notice though. Didn’t even try to stop the ink from soaking through his papers and dripping down his desk. 

“Alexander-” she spoke as one does to a spooked child or horse.

“Go on” His voice was monotone. Void of all emotion. 

_ “I congratulate you on your current accomplishments. Send my respect to Mrs. Hamilton. Your obliged and obedient servant, H. Laurens”  _ Noise around him faded away and the only sound was the thumping of his heartbeat and his shallow breath. He vaguely saw Eliza’s lips moving as he gripped the side of the desk to steady himself.

“-ander? Are you alright?” Eliza put a hand on his shoulder. He wrenched away, aggressively pulling himself out of Eliza’s touch. He looked up, his knuckles white and hands shaking. 

“Please leave me” his voice wavered, full of emotion brimming to the top and threatening in spill.

“Alexnd-”

“I have so much work to do” he croaked. He felt Eliza leave but didn’t look up, his eyes trained on the ground, burning a hole into the floorboards. 

He stumbled over to the door and slammed it shut, putting his whole body weight on it. He leaned against the closed door, sinking down, feeling his heart thunder against his breast.

This was a dream. 

This was a dream. 

It could not be real. He must be in some sort of warped nightmare. His hand grappled at the desk, snatching the letter Eliza left. His eyes scanned the words over and over and over as they seemed to taunt him.

_ On Tuesday, the 27th my son, Lieutenant-Colonel John Laurens was killed in a gunfight against British troops in South Carolina.  _

The twenty-seventh had been more than a week ago. 

His Laurens had been dead for more than a week and Alexander hadn’t even-

A choked sob erupted from his chest and he crumpled the paper up.

He promised.  _ Promised _ to never leave him. 

_ He left you a long time ago. _

Laurens was not dead. He was not a corpse somewhere, buried on a battlefield. No. Alexander could still feel his soft touch, see his little smiles, hear his laugh, smell his sweet scent of honey, coffee and wood. 

Alexander could almost see him, or the version of him that he once was. He held onto that image, like a child grasping at the wind, slipping through his fingers. The more he thought about it, the more Laurens started to fade away. 

_ “Please _ ” he whispered “Please  _ don’t go, don’t leave me _ ” his chest tightened as reality started to sink in. 

Gone. 

_ Gone.  _

**_GONE._ **

Alexander jumped to his feet and swept the papers off his desk, yelling in anger. He growled in frustration and pounded his fist against the wall. 

Soon the anger bubbled and ceded and all that was left was dry sobs coursing through his body. 

They were supposed to have so much time. He thought to every secretive glance, brush, sweet kiss, passionate kiss, comforting words, and let himself drown in the darkness. 

_ Come back, come back, come back, come back, come back!  _ His body roared. 

_ Just one more embrace, one more kiss, one more moment together, please just more  _ **_time_ ** . 

How was he supposed to go on? John had always been his anchor, his reason, the reason he fought. 

Alexander squeezed his eyes shut, a tear trickling down his hot face. It was cold, just like the body buried in the ground. 

He bit his lips, sinking the wet imprints down, shuddering and contorting his face. 

He leaned into the wall, imagining Laurens was there, his strong arms around him, whispering sweet nothings into his ear as he planted sweet, open-mouthed kisses on his neck. 

A fresh bout of tears streamed down his face, gathering at his chin and dripping down, down, down. 

This was not the time to sit and cry. That was what he learned from the war. You take your grief and turn it into motivation. 

He  _ had _ so much work to do. He would shape the new nation, rise to the top, and do it all for John. He would build a better world, a nation they had dreamed of  _ together _ , for him. 

Alexander rose to his feet shakily, wiping his tears on the back of his hand and pushing back the pain and the mourning. 

It was better to become numb. To feel nothing, throw yourself into work to distract yourself from the pain. 

Alexander’s breaths evened out as he sat back down at his desk.

Yes. That’s right.

He had so much work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanking everyone for their support and patience while I finish this series! 
> 
> This chapter was a bigger beast than Laurens' death because I've seen so many interpretations of this moment. I decided not to overdo it and use what I know: that Hamilton went full insomnia, workaholic after Laurens' death and never was the same emotionally. He used work as a coping mechanism? 
> 
> ALso if this chapter seemed rushed or like weakly written it is because I wrote and edited it at 7 AM during my virtual class, so apologies guys 
> 
> Sources:  
> https://diannedurantewriter.com/archives/2336#:~:text=Hamilton%20replied%20to%20Laurens%20from,of%20service%20commences%20in%20November.  
> https://founders.archives.gov/documents/Washington/03-19-02-0499  
> http://www.let.rug.nl/usa/biographies/alexander-hamilton/citizen-hamilton-(1782-1789).php
> 
> I'm on tumblr! Check out my account @crazychloe08


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander Hamilton and John Laurens reunite in the afterlife after twenty two years of absence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter here we go!

**_I'm Mr. Loverman, and I miss my lover, man. I'm Mr. Loverman, oh, and I miss my lover (Mr. Loverman)_ **

Laurens watched Alexander collide with his mother in a tearful embrace as his own heart thumped wildly against his chest. He balled his clammy hands as the anticipation grew.

Would they embrace? Merely shake hands? Had Alexander forgotten about him all those years after his death? Had their love ceased with his death? 

Laurens watched Alexander talk to his mother in low murmurs. Even just seeing him still made Laurens’ heart flutter. 

A restless bundle of energy stood beside him, rocking back on his heels and toes, only eight years his junior. Time was odd. 

Phillip looked up at Laurens as if to ask  _ Can I? _ Laurens nodded and patted the boy on the back. He watched as Phillip bolted to his father. They collided and Laurens heard Alexander’s laugh sing through the air.

Oh, he had missed him more than he knew. It melted Laurens’ heart watching Alexander cling to his lost son, but also reminded him where their boundaries lie. 

A ghost of a smile appeared on Laurens's lips watching the young boy chatter to his father, speaking a million miles per second. Phillip grinned and gestured to Laurens, making his heart drop.

Alexander’s eyes followed Phillip’s gesture, gazing over Laurens, and stopped. 

“Go on Laurens” George Washington murmured from beside him, a steady rock of reassurance and security, “You and he have waited long enough” Laurens took a deep breath and unconsciously smoothed his uniform. 

Laurens took a couple of steps, letting Alexander’s eyes rove over his body, calculating. A small, watery smile broke over Alexander’s face, and at this moment, Laurens knew that nothing had changed. 

“Hello Alexander,” he finally said, his voice rough and it cracked, but as violet eyes met clear blue, he didn’t care. 

They moved in tandem, rushing toward each other and stopping mere inches from one another. The air was still and those around them faded away. It was just the two of them, now and in this moment. 

“This is for leaving me” Alexander grunted and then without warning punched Laurens across the jaw, pain flaring through his body. Before Laurens could respond, Alexander threw himself onto Laurens, embracing his frame. 

The weight was so familiar as Laurens held on tight, not hesitating to lay his head on Alexander’s shoulder, his nose in his auburn locks. 

Alexander looked up at him, his violet eyes clear and sparkling. 

“You’re as beautiful as the day you left” he whispered. Laurens couldn’t help it as he rushed and captured Alexander’s lips with his, stars bursting behind his eyes as he gripped the other man’s face. 

It could have been minutes, hours, days, months, years, standing there, holding each other and kissing like the world was ending. It was not a soft, sweet kiss like the ones they traded in secret or the whirlwind kisses of passion, it was full of every emotion possible. 

Full of every emotion that had been felt during their separation. 

Laurens could almost taste Alexander’s grief on his tongue. 

Tears lined both their eyes as they stepped apart, a little out of breath, but basked in euphoria.

“I have so much to tell you!” Alexander piped, voice with a tone nothing less than pure happiness. 

“I have missed you so much, dear boy” Laurens answered, letting a full smile settle onto his cheeks. 

“I love you” Alexander blurted, grabbing Laurens’ hand. Laurens gently squeezed his calloused fingers. 

“We have all the time in the world, now” Alexander leaned into Laurens as each deceased loved one greeted the newcomer, full over embraces, kisses and some tears, but through it all, Alexander never let go of Laurens’ hand.

They could start over now, spend the rest of eternity together, just like it should have been, just like it had always been. Never letting go. 

No more hiding. 

Nothing holding them back. 

Just time. 

Just like Laurens had said. 

They had all the time in the world. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this series comes to an end, I thought a chapter like this would be fitting. If anyone was confused, It's basically John and Alex reuniting in heaven/afterlife and stuff. I wrote a short oneshot of Alexander's last moments before his death, so I like to think that this is a continuation of that (go check it out on my profile)
> 
> I want to give a big THANK YOu to everyone that has commented/kudosed or even just followed along as I randomly updated. If you look back at the first chapter all the way until now, you can see a huge difference in my writing and how much I improved, and I like to think my growth was because of all the readers that motivated me. 
> 
> I did go back and make some *minor* changes to the earlier chapters, so go back and re-read them and try to find the differences! 
> 
> I'm on Tumblr! Check out my profile [@crazychloe08](https://crazychloe08.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> I am emotionally attached to John Laurens if you couldn't tell, so leaving a comment (about anything honestly) to help improve my character writing would be appreciated:))))))


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